In the Air Tonight

by Stephanie Tyler

  “Nothing. It says that Jeffrey told them not to do anything.”

  “Doesn’t mean they’ll listen.” Mace watched as the tattooist rubbed a thin sheen of ointment on the finished tattoo.

  “There’s more,” Caleb said, told him about the audiotapes and the pictures. “Vivi uploaded the files—the pics should be there and the voice mail too.”

  Mace’s head began to throb, and he wondered if he should just take Paige straight back to New York and the bar, but he knew she’d never go for it. Mainly because she felt an obligation to the Kettering family, and he understood that. The rest, well, she’d be playing right into Jeffrey’s hands. “Keep me updated.”

  “Will do,” Caleb confirmed.

  When he hung up, Mace didn’t cancel their hotel reservation, but he called a different one and booked a room there too, just in case. Gave Reid’s name and gave a glancing thought to what Reid’s reaction to all this would be before listening to the message and looking through the pictures.

  Paige was all done about five minutes later. Mace insisted on paying, since it had been his idea, and she walked out of the shop behind him, glancing over her shoulder the way he always did and he hated that she had to worry now. She waited until they were in the truck and driving before she spoke.

  “I saw you on the phone. What happened?”

  And here he thought she hadn’t been watching him. He’d planned on waiting a little while to share the intel with her, hated to ruin her tattoo high. “Reid came to the bar tonight and he caught a woman trying to break in—she was looking for you. She said she has a message, but refuses to tell it to anyone but you. Vivi found her listed here.” Mace took out his phone and pulled up the website while they waited at a light. “Her name’s Adrienne Brite—do you know her?”

  Paige stared at the website, opened to a picture of Adrienne, and shook her head. “I’d heard about these women but I’ve never actually seen this.”

  “The Internet allows them to be way more organized than they would be otherwise.”

  “Jeffrey’s not supposed to have access to a computer, let alone the Internet, right?”

  “I don’t know. He’s probably got an illegal phone.” He pulled into the underground parking lot of the new hotel.

  “Jeffrey always liked to collect things. Medals. Girls in high school—he was a real charmer. Most of my friends had a crush on him and I had to fight like hell to keep them separated. Thankfully, they were too young for him … or so they thought.” She paused. “If there’s more, tell me now, before we go upstairs. Because once we do, I want to shut it all off.”

  He kept the car running and pulled up the pictures Vivi had sent to his phone, watched as Paige scrolled through them.

  “This is from after the news report,” she confirmed.

  “How do you know?”

  She pointed to her neck in the picture. With her jacket blown open from the wind, you could clearly see the ring of bruises around her neck. “That was the last time I went inside the apartment—I stayed there and then I left late at night about forty-eight hours later.”

  “Because of the news report?”

  “I left right after that author called me—the one writing a book on Jeffrey. He asked to interview me. It’s what finally pushed me out the door,” she admitted.

  Mace tried to wrap his mind around what Paige had been going through when she walked into the bar. And he’d been such a dick. “These followers, they’ve never bothered you before?”

  “No.”

  “His plan is to get you in front of him so he can manipulate you.”

  “I know. I have to manipulate him right back. He probably won’t be expecting that.” She paused. “I have to figure out his … what would Gray call it, his end game? Jeffrey never did anything without a reason. This time’s no different.”

  “We’ve got to talk it through, then. I want to see your poker face. You need to know what to reveal—what not to.”

  “You’ll teach me some interrogation techniques?”

  “Sure—I’ll compress all the training into an hour.”

  She gave him a wry grin. “In this case, I’m something of an expert on my subject. Is there anything else happening at the bar I need to know?”

  “There’s another recording. I don’t know when Adrienne was going to play it for you. I don’t know if you even want to hear it.”

  “I don’t, but I need to. So go ahead.”

  She looked so strong and determined, but she no doubt died a little each time something like this happened. It was with a heavy heart that he played the second message, watched her face carefully as Jeffrey’s voice filled the interior of the car.

  “Hi, Paige—I was wondering if you’d made any new friends yet. I’m hoping you have, so I can do what I promised all those years ago. Come to think of it, I should’ve finished what I started that day in your room, really marked you. Made you mine. If you’d given in, I wouldn’t have snapped like that. And I’ve never stopped thinking about you … I’m going to finish what I started, and this time you have no one to help you. Be prepared to scream, Paige. I love hearing you scream.” There was a chuckle, almost boyish, and then, “See you soon, sis.”

  Mace clicked the message off and waited. Paige simply stared straight ahead, blinking hard.

  Finally, she turned to face him, her eyes liquid, but she hadn’t let any tears fall. “I don’t want to think about this any more tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll have to deal with it, but not tonight. You have to help me.”

  He could think of nothing he wanted to do more.

  He could think of something he wanted to do less, though, and that was answer Noah’s incoming phone call. As he escorted Paige out of the car and through the parking lot, he picked up the call.

  Before he’d finished his greeting, his CO was barking, “You tell that asshole I know what he’s trying to do.”

  Mace knew the asshole in question was Dylan—there hadn’t been much, if any, love lost between the two men when Dylan was under Noah’s command.

  Correction, when Dylan was supposed to be under Noah’s command. Dylan was pretty much uncommandable, claimed he’d been born that way and planned on dying that way.

  Much to Noah’s consternation, the dying part proved damned elusive. “He’s worried about Caleb,” Mace said, in an effort to placate the situation. He felt Paige’s eyes on him but refused to look in her direction as Noah told him, “It’s more than that, Mace. Don’t bullshit me.”

  Mace wondered, for a brief second, how badly Noah would string him up if he knew just how much potential trouble both he and Caleb were in at the moment. “Look, Noah—”

  “No, you look. I didn’t send you away so you could work for some merc.”

  “I know,” he said quietly.

  It was all he could think to say, because it was the truth. Noah obviously knew that too, because he hung up, leaving Mace with a dial tone and Paige staring at him.

  Mace was practically vibrating with tension as he led her into the hotel room.

  “Do you need to go back now?” Paige asked, praying the answer was no, and he shook his head.

  Relief flooded her.

  “That was my CO,” he said finally, after he put their bags down. “He’s pissed.”

  “Why?”

  He sat on the edge of the bed, hung his hands in between his open knees, staring at them. She noted the scars on the knuckles—they were a working man’s hands, and she remembered the way they’d handled her and she blushed as her body heated, despite everything.

  When he finally looked up at her, his eyes were dark, glittering. “Cael’s older brother Dylan wants us to work with him. My CO knows, and he’s not happy.”

  “What business is Dylan in?”

  “Private contracting,” he said, and she looked confused. “The mercenary business.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Oh.”

  That made him give her a lopsided grin. “What we do in Delta’s not all that
different.”

  “I guess not. So are you going to work with Dylan, then?”

  He shrugged. “We’ll see. After ten years of working for the government, it’d be nice to call my own shots.”

  “But what about the bar?” She wondered why she’d felt such a visceral tug in her gut when she thought about him abandoning the bar. Somehow, she’d come to think of it as her refuge.

  “I could hire a manager to run it when I’m gone same as I’ve been doing.”

  God, she didn’t want to think about him being gone.

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he told her. “Come on, let’s take that bandage off so you can get some sleep.”

  Getting the tattoo had been just what she needed. It had relaxed her, taken her mind off everything and everyone—except Mace. It was one of those odd things that happened with tattooing—the pain became almost pleasurable. She wanted to feel that way again, wanted to pretend those phone calls he’d received didn’t exist.

  “Toby gave me some sample ointment,” she told him, dug in her jeans pocket for the packets the tattoo artist had given her.

  “He was flirting with you the whole time. Annoyed the shit out of me,” he muttered as he followed her into the bathroom, where she stripped off her sweater and he began to peel the black-backed bandage off.

  “You scared him.”

  “Good. I meant to.” He examined the tattoo. “Looks good.”

  She looked over her shoulder at it once again.

  “I like it—it honors Delta. And Gray,” she said of the special symbol Mace had drawn for her and the artist had copied, resisting the suddenly strong urge to touch Mace—really touch him, not to read him but to strip him out of his clothes. It had to be the wine. And the tattoo. “It makes me feel like one of you, makes me feel invincible.”

  “You are one of us,” Mace told her, without adding that none of them were invincible at all—something she appreciated.

  “I’m sorry, Mace. I’ve been so—”

  “You’ve been fine. I haven’t exactly been an angel. I guess we’re both pretty scarred.” His eyes flashed and the double meaning wasn’t lost on her.

  She turned and found herself face-to-face with him. Couldn’t resist going up on tiptoes to kiss him. He obviously had the same idea because he’d bent his head to her—his lips pressed hers in a strong kiss, full of longing.

  Her hands fisted against his jeans and she pulled his hips to hers. He pressed against her too, and for a few minutes, they were molded to each other, their kisses heating her to a frenzied level.

  She’d wanted to kiss him like this all night long. Judging by the way his arousal pressed her belly, he felt the same, but he pulled away, put his forehead against hers.

  “Let’s finish up here first,” he said. “And then …”

  And then …

  She stepped back and turned to face the mirror again, letting him wash the fresh ink and then put on a thin layer of the ointment.

  “It’s pretty red,” Mace commented.

  “It’s always like that. By morning, it’ll look better. It’s just … raw.”

  “Yeah, raw,” he murmured as he ran a finger over her bare shoulder, staring at the ink. “Damn, it looks good on you, though. Sexy as hell.”

  His mouth went to where his finger had just traced along her shoulder and she shuddered as he nipped her skin and then licked up the side of her neck.

  It was primal. Predatory. And really, really hot. When he lifted his head and gazed at her in the mirror, it was the same look he’d given her that first night, a cross between total distrust and a more than grudging respectful acknowledgment that she was the sister of his best friend.

  He was as torn about dealing with her as she was with him, and because of that, he pushed forward.

  “When I saw you …” he began.

  “Which time?”

  “Both times,” he clarified. “I wanted you to get the hell away from me. And I wanted you to come closer.”

  “I wanted the same thing.”

  “And now?”

  “I’ve stopped wanting to run,” she said, and he smiled—a smile she’d really started to love. She went to wrap her arms around him—glanced at her hands and saw that she’d kept them fisted.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not ready …” she started.

  “Me either,” he said bluntly. “There are things neither of us need exposed right now.”

  “I don’t want to be scared of you, Mace. Or of what I might see if I touch you.”

  “I know that.” His voice was gruff but he didn’t seem angry about it. “I don’t want you to touch me tonight, not like this. There’s too much out there to figure out. Too much shit between us. I don’t want to add to your burden—I want to take some of it away.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s important to me. Because you’re beginning to matter to me as more than just Gray’s sister, okay?” He seemed genuinely confused about that. “I didn’t expect it to happen. Didn’t necessarily want it to. But it has. So can you just let me make you feel really damned good?”

  She smirked at his tone. “I can do that.”

  “Good. Finally.”

  He picked her up, slung her over his shoulder caveman-style and walked to the bed while she giggled uncontrollably. Giggled.

  God, how long had it been?

  She was enveloped in the warmth of his body on the bed in seconds. He smelled so good—like soap and man and sex … hot, dirty sex.

  “Love hearing you laugh,” he murmured against her cheek, his body covering hers.

  “We should both laugh more.”

  “Let’s work on that,” he agreed. “Although right now, I’d like to hear those pretty moans you make when you’re coming.”

  Her cheeks flushed at his words.

  “I fucking love making you blush like that.” He stripped her tank top and she stretched her hands over her head, grabbed the metal headboard rod and waited. Watched as he retrieved two of his own shirts from his bag and bound her wrists to the slats, and for a second she felt very much like a sacrificial lamb.

  It was similar to last night—had it just been last night? But it was so different.

  This was not just about sex and she couldn’t lie about that any more. Not with the way he was gazing at her.

  “So pretty, Paige.” He took a nipple into his mouth, hard, sucking, and she jumped, moaned so loudly she was sure the people in the next room could hear and figured she needed to get used to a permanent blush when she was with Mace.

  The sensation pricked and her body arched, welcoming the contact.

  “You drive me fucking crazy,” he murmured as he glanced at her, then flicked a nipple with his tongue, catching the other between his finger and thumb and rolling it until she felt a shot straight to her womb. Moisture dampened between her legs and she wanted all her clothes off. Now.

  “Mace, please … I want …”

  “Taking my time,” he told her. “You’ll need to be patient.”

  But she wasn’t, never really had been. And his slow torture of her nipples was making her writhe under him. She found herself grinding against him in hopes of relief, but he pulled away. “You’re a bad girl, Paige.”

  “Very. Now take off your clothes,” she begged. “I want to see everything.”

  “Demanding, aren’t we?” But he didn’t protest, pulled off his shirt and his jeans while she watched. He hadn’t bothered with underwear and his cock jutted out, heavy and hard, and she couldn’t stop staring.

  “I want to explore you … with my mouth,” she told him. “Everywhere.”

  “First, you need to be naked.” He slid down her jeans and her thong and gazed at her again. She used her legs to pull him forward and he moved until he was over her face.

  She licked the head of his erection and heard him draw in a sharp breath. He supported himself on the headboard above her as she took him into her mouth.

  “Jesus
, Paige,” he muttered, and she used her tongue to swirl the dark head, which was swollen and throbbing. “Oh, yeah, that’s it …”

  He tasted like salt and musk and she loved having this control over him—even with her hands tied, she was calling the shots.

  He didn’t seem to mind at all, willingly gave himself to her … let her tease and taunt him with her mouth until he was groaning, telling her he wouldn’t last if she kept it up.

  She wanted him to come inside of her, and so she stopped.

  “I want to ride you,” she murmured. “Untie me.”

  “Give the lady a tattoo and she gets bossy.” But he undid the shirts quickly.

  “Lay down,” she told him, and he complied, never taking his eyes off her. She was beyond foreplay and so she straddled his body, fisted her hands in the sheets on either side of him as she slid herself down on him. His hands held her hips and he pushed her down all the way, hard enough for a surprised gasp to escape her throat.

  He was so deep inside of her, filling her in the most exquisite way possible. For a moment, she remained still, letting herself adjust to his girth, and then she began to move, up and down, contracting around him, watching his face light with tight pleasure.

  He bucked his hips up into her, claiming her the way he had last night. But this was different. The hard column of flesh penetrated her more deeply and she leaned forward and bit his neck as he moved faster, the sensations building inside of her, her belly tightening in anticipation of her orgasm.

  When she came, it was with a lightning-force rush that had her clamping down on him, drawing out his own orgasm, milking it from him. She only realized, at that moment, when he spilled inside of her, that they didn’t have a condom. Didn’t care, really, only focused on the incredible high she rode with the swell of her climax.

  After a few minutes, Mace muttered, “Fuck.” He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths as she collapsed against him. “I’m sorry, Paige—I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Me neither. Didn’t want to,” she admitted. She’d been tested recently and she knew he had been too—for work. “We’re both clean. And I’m on the pill.”

  “If anything happens …” He didn’t finish his statement, didn’t have to.