Kick A** Heroines Box Set: The UltimatumFatal AffairAfter the DarkBulletproof SEAL (The Guardian)

by Karen Robards

  He growled.

  Her hands slid between their bodies. She caught the snap of his jeans and unhooked them. The zipper slid down with a low hiss, and the hot, hard length of his erection thrust into her hands. He’d been the one to seduce her before. Samantha figured this was her chance now. She stroked the length of his erection, moving from base to tip, again and again. He was full, so thick and hot in her hands. His breath blew out as she stroked him. She kissed his chest, moving her body down, moving her mouth down, and then she pressed her lips to his cock.

  “Samantha.”

  She sucked him, licked him and had one hell of a good time exploring his body. Power poured through her—a sensual rush of power that she’d never felt with another lover. She trusted Blake completely in that moment. Anything he wanted—anything she wanted—she knew there was no taboo.

  Then his hands were on her, pushing her back, and she hit the bed. He ditched his jeans, grabbed a condom and was back with her in mere moments. He caught her wrists and pinned them above her. He held them there with one of his hands while his other hand positioned his cock at the entrance to her body.

  “You push me to the edge.”

  “I want you over that edge,” she told him. She wanted everything from him.

  “Then here we go.” He drove into her, a deep thrust that stole her breath. He filled her completely, and her body closed greedily around him. Withdraw, thrust, in and out, and the old four-poster bed began to squeak.

  The passion was red-hot between them. She arched against him, moaning his name. His mouth closed over her shoulder, and she felt the edge of his teeth on her skin. She liked it when he got rough. When he went wild, and he was wild right then. Every hard thrust of his body sent the length of his cock surging over her clit. Again and again, rougher, harder.

  And her orgasm slammed into her. It hit her with the force of an avalanche, stealing her breath, and she shuddered beneath him. He held her hands tightly, and he kept thrusting, deep and strong, the power of his thrusts lifting her off the bed, and she loved it.

  “Let’s do that again,” he urged hotly. “You feel fucking fantastic.”

  So did he.

  Blake freed her hands. She started to reach for him, but he withdrew.

  Oh, hell, no. “Blake!”

  He caught her hips, rolled her over. Samantha came up on her knees even as she automatically grabbed for the headboard to steady herself. He rose up behind her, spread her legs wider apart. “Like this…”

  He sank into her again. She was so sensitive from her orgasm. When he sank into her…

  “Yes.” The word was a hiss of pleasure. Like this. Exactly like this. She wanted this to go on forever.

  He took her from behind, driving in with fast and hard strokes, and she slammed her hips back to meet him. His hands were around her waist, holding her so tightly that she wondered if she’d have bruises—and she didn’t even care. Her orgasm was building again. She wanted to explode, wanted the pleasure to last and last.

  His hand slid around her body. His fingers pushed between her thighs. Her hands curled like claws around the headboard. Yes, right there. He was stroking her clit even as he drove his cock into her. Again. Once more, she needed—

  Her body stiffened as the climax hit. A climax that rolled through her again and again, and she could barely choke out his name. The pleasure wouldn’t stop. It was almost too much for her…

  It was perfect.

  He pulled her closer, and his cock jerked within her as he came. His mouth pressed to the curve of her shoulder. She could feel the release running through him. She heard the thunder of a heartbeat—hers, his.

  Her eyes were closed. She opened them and glanced back at him. His face was cut into hard, predatory lines. He looked rough and dangerous. He was exactly what she wanted. He knew about the shadows in her mind, the shadows that marked her soul, and he didn’t seem to care.

  He pulled out of her, and she hated that loss. “Don’t stop,” Samantha said. “I want to go again.” And again, and again.

  “Oh, we will.” He kissed her. “We will.”

  * * *

  “TAMMY WHITE HAD no idea that she was going to work for the last day of her life.” Janice Beautfont stared into the lens of her video camera and made sure that her voice was rich with sympathy and just a hint of pain as she stood in front of the Connoisseur’s Delight shop. “But she was abducted from this small town, a place that should have been safe for her—and authorities discovered her remains at the bottom of the bay.” She gave a sad shake of her head. “Now a manhunt is under way for Jason Burke, a twenty-two-year-old ex–Georgetown University psychology major who is a person of interest in Tammy’s abduction and brutal murder.” She paused just a moment. “Tune in tonight at ten for the latest details on this case as developments continue to unfold.” She stared into the camera lens a few more moments and mentally counted down for the transfer back to the station. Five, four, three, two, one—

  She blew out a hard breath and unsnapped the microphone that she’d been wearing. “Did I sound sympathetic enough? Like I cared?”

  John Andrews, her cameraman, frowned at her. It was just her and John working tonight. Billy Wax, her intern, wasn’t around for his social media duty. Seriously, if that guy thought he was going to make it in the business, he needed to get his priorities straight. Maybe his jeans were too damn tight or something, because he’d gone on a date instead of showing up for the biggest story of the whole freaking year.

  And John was still frowning at her. Whoops. Just what had she said to him? “I mean, I care. Of course I care.” She shot a quick glance over her shoulder. No one was behind her. “I just wanted to make sure that came across in the story.”

  John opened his mouth to reply.

  “It came across,” a deep, gravelly voice told her.

  Her gaze jumped to the left, to the shadows on the side of the building—and to the man who’d apparently been watching her whole show.

  He stepped from the shadows. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair. He was dressed casually, and he walked toward her with a loose-limbed grace. “You handled the segment with tact and class. I was impressed.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. I always try to present my stories in a way that will do justice to the victims.” She studied the man again. Handsome, very handsome. She’d always thought a beard was sexy on a man.

  He offered his hand to her, and she saw the tattoo near his wrist. Again…sexy. She took that offered hand and lifted a brow. “You a sailor, sir?” She was pretty sure that it was of a trident.

  He laughed, a warm rumbly sound. “Former. Right now, I’m overseeing the shipbuilding in the area.” His smile faded. “I’m also helping Captain Lewis with the search efforts for the bastard who killed Tammy White.”

  Oh, he’d just gone all intense. She liked that. Her night was suddenly looking way up.

  “Uh, Janice?” John called. “You ready to go?”

  The former sailor was still holding her hand. Ready to go? Not likely. Especially when her new friend said, “And here I was…hoping you’d get a drink with me. There’s a great wine bar right around the corner.”

  She knew that place very well.

  She also knew how she’d be ending her night.

  Janice glanced over at her cameraman. He had a wife waiting at home—and a new baby. She knew he was itching to leave. “Go ahead, John! I have an early morning segment. I’ll see you then.” Her car was in the parking garage a few streets over. “I need to unwind with a drink.” She smiled back at the sailor. “And a new friend.” She paused a moment. “Just what did you say your name was?”

  “Brock Chambers.”

  “Janice Beautfont.” She gave him a slow, considering smile. “And after the day I’ve had, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you.�
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  His hand slid away from hers, moving in a slow, sensual caress. “Trust me.” His smile flashed again. “That pleasure is all mine.”

  * * *

  SAMANTHA WAS IN bed next to Blake, his hand curled around her stomach. Her body pressed so perfectly to his. Her breathing was light, easy, and he knew that she was sleeping.

  He wanted to slip away into sleep with her, but his job wasn’t done.

  He pressed a kiss to her cheek, inhaled her sweet scent, then Blake slipped from the bed. He dressed quietly and made his way back to his room. He pulled the door shut behind him, then reached for his phone.

  A fast search showed no more calls or texts from Bass. And that was not like the executive assistant director. Bass had rented a room at the big hotel up on the Point, a fancy playground that the wealthy had visited for years. He intended to pay Bass a personal visit up there. They needed to clear the fucking air.

  Samantha was part of that investigation, and she’d stay part of it. He’d originally thought about booking Samantha a room at that same hotel, figuring it would be a safe spot, but he hadn’t wanted Bass to argue about the situation. So Blake had gotten Samantha the room at the bed-and-breakfast on his own dime. And that place, with its easy Southern charm, it had just seemed like a good fit for her. A place to make her feel…safe.

  He wanted safety for her. And while she was sleeping, while she had a few moments of peace, it was time for him to check in with the EAD.

  Blake slipped from the bed-and-breakfast, and moments later, he was on the long, winding road that led toward Bass’s hotel. Darkness had fallen, but the stars glittered overhead. Thousands of them. It was hard to see that many stars in DC.

  Sometimes, it was hard to see anything but the crimes.

  He pulled into the hotel’s parking lot. Automatically, his gaze swept the lot. He didn’t see the rental car Bass had used before. The worry that had been nagging at his gut got worse. He pulled out his phone and called Bass again.

  No answer.

  Blake marched inside the hotel. He went up to the front desk, flashing his badge and ID. “I need the room number for Justin Bass, right now.”

  The desk clerk scrambled to comply—not just giving him the room number but even escorting him there. When they stopped in front of room 212, Blake banged his fist on the door. “Bass! Damn it, I don’t care if you’re puking your guts out over the toilet, we need to talk!”

  Silence.

  “Bass!”

  Nothing. Blake glanced at the desk clerk. “I need in that room.” Every instinct he had was screaming at him. Bass wasn’t answering his calls. He’d been a no-show at that press conference. His car wasn’t in the lot.

  What is happening here?

  “I can’t give you access—” the clerk began.

  Blake lifted his badge and just stared at the guy. “Do you know how the FBI works?”

  “Not really.”

  Good. Blake kept his face blank. “I have reason to believe that the man inside is experiencing health difficulties. He may need an ambulance. Open the door, now.”

  The guy opened the door. Blake rushed inside.

  Bass wasn’t in there. His luggage still sat on the foot of the bed, all zipped up. A glance in the bathroom showed no sign of any mess. In fact, it looked as if Bass had barely been in the place at all.

  “Maybe…maybe your friend went out to see a doctor?” the clerk asked.

  Blake surged past him, yanking his phone out as he headed into the hall. He called Josh, knowing the guy also had a room at the hotel. “Josh,” he directed as soon as his friend answered, “meet me in the lobby. We’ve got a problem.”

  “Oh, hell.” Josh’s frustration rumbled over the line. “Did the perp take someone else already?”

  “Bass is missing. We need to get a trace on his phone, and we need to figure out exactly when folks saw him last.” Because the executive assistant director never just disappeared from an investigation. The guy might be a dick sometimes, but he wouldn’t abandon a case.

  Not unless he wasn’t given a choice.

  * * *

  HER VOICE WAS high and keening as she came. Her chest had flushed a dark red, just like her face, and her breasts bounced as she shoved her body against his.

  Janice Beautfont hadn’t really cared about wine, but she’d been all about a trip to the little room he’d booked at the nearby bed-and-breakfast. A place he’d picked for one reason…

  Because I know Samantha is there.

  He’d been watching her during the press conference. He’d watched her after. He liked to watch Samantha. Liked to see when she was lying to others.

  And to herself.

  So he’d seen Gamble bring her to the quaint bed-and-breakfast. And a little cash to the clerk had even gotten the information that they’d booked two rooms. Still haven’t crossed that line yet, have you, Sam? She hadn’t, and she wouldn’t.

  “You are incredible!” Janice tossed back her hair, panting a bit. “Oh, my God. That was so what I needed today. You have no idea.”

  A hard, fast fuck with a stranger? Good for her. Sometimes, he needed the same thing.

  Her bloodred fingernail trailed over his chest. “Was it as good for you?”

  It had been incredibly average for him. He put his hand under her chin, tipped her head up and pressed a kiss to her lips. “You have no idea.” When he pulled back, the woman was practically preening.

  He slid from her body, marched into the bathroom and cleaned himself off. Her perfume clung to his skin. He didn’t like that. The scent was…too strong. He liked more flowery scents. Or…lavender. Lavender was his favorite scent. Samantha always had a lavender scent.

  “You coming back?” Janice called.

  Of course. I’m not done.

  He strolled into the bedroom, still naked, and he climbed back into the bed with her. She snuggled up against him, now totally relaxed, her defenses down. Exactly what he needed. His left hand stretched out and reached toward the nightstand.

  “What are you doing?” she murmured.

  “Just checking the time.” The lie came so easily as his fingers dipped into the nightstand drawer. Her back was to him, so she couldn’t see what he was doing.

  “It’s still early. We have hours to play.”

  No, they didn’t. He had other plans.

  “This is a big story that you’re covering,” he murmured. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. Frowned at the scent of her body lotion. Way too strong. “You think they’ll catch the killer?”

  “I hope so. Bringing him in would make for killer news.” Then she gave a slightly self-conscious laugh. “I don’t mean to sound like a heartless bitch.” She looked back at him. “I’m not. You just… In this business, you have to put a certain amount of distance between yourself and the story. If you don’t, it will tear you apart.”

  She was more sensitive than he’d believed.

  Janice swallowed. “Sometimes, I don’t like the things I have to do.”

  “Then you shouldn’t do them.”

  Her long lashes lowered. “If I didn’t, someone else would get the story. Someone would scoop me. That can’t happen.”

  “Because you’re driven.”

  Now her smile was bitter. “Because I was on the top of the pile, and I got tossed to the bottom. I’ve been fighting my way back ever since.”

  Something he could respect.

  “So I do things I don’t always like.”

  Now he was curious. “Tell me about those things.”

  “Samantha Dark.” The name seemed to slip from her. She blinked. “That’s… I didn’t mean to say that.” Another nervous laugh came from her. “You sure are… You’re easy to talk to.”

  “I’ve been told that before
.” He positioned her in his arms, making sure that her back was against his stomach. “Samantha Dark…” Saying her name made his heart lurch in his chest. It also made his dick hard. I know you’re close, Sam. “I think I saw you with her on the news. Her and the FBI agent—”

  “Her lover?”

  His hold tightened on Janice. “Her partner.” His words were a correction.

  “No, trust me, those two are sleeping together. I got them when they were coming out of her house—together—and look, I know body language. He was touching her the way a lover does, a possessive lover.” She gave a little laugh. “And I could see the truth in their eyes. I even started to run with that story on the news, but…”

  His whole body had gone tense.

  “I didn’t see the point in it.” Her voice was soft now. “The woman got a raw deal before. Her ex-lover Cameron Latham wrecked her life. I’ve got an ex who destroyed my career, so I know exactly where she was coming from.”

  No, you don’t. You know nothing.

  “So I just ran with the story I had. I’m not into the gossip rags. What she does in her bedroom is her own business. Just like what I do should have been mine.”

  He reached for the nightstand drawer once again.

  “I think she knew, though,” Janice added now, voice musing. “And I would have liked for her to admit that part, at least.”

  “Knew?” He pulled a knife from the drawer—a knife he’d put inside while Janice had been in the bathroom, freshening up before sex.

  “I would have liked for her to admit that she knew Latham was a killer all along. Because I mean, come on, the woman is supposed to be one of the best profilers out there. She must have seen signs that the guy was a freak job.”

  Not necessarily. Especially since I’m not a freak. “Sometimes, you don’t see any signs.”

  She made a hum of disagreement. “Wrong. I’ve come across my share of killers in my time. You see the signs. They’re right there in front of your face.”

  A knife was inches away from her face.

  “Janice…” He leaned his body around hers, curving close to her. “You don’t see anything.” Then he sliced that knife right across her throat.