Wanted: An Outlaw Anthology

by Lane Hart

  I’d left her alone to shower while I got busy on our mission, searching my contacts for someone who might have information on Sasha or Nikolai. There were a lot of options and I’d compiled a good list of leads before I realized she’d gone to bed without even saying goodnight.

  After my own shower, I’d crawled into bed beside her, hoping she wouldn’t kill me in my sleep. Except, I couldn’t get there.

  Her gentle breathing and the memory of her body wrapped around mine were keeping me up. I didn’t want to think about it—about the way I’d given myself over to her. She’d demanded I take the lead, but she’d been the one in control the entire time, dragging me into her untamed frenzy.

  More proof that I’d completely lost my mind.

  There was a job to do, and I needed to keep my balance. Sex wasn’t the answer to proving her wrong about me, getting rid of the Russians, or putting my life back in order. It wasn’t going to keep anyone safe, and it would take a hell of a lot more than an orgasm to win her trust.

  But damn, that orgasm. Just thinking of how it ripped through her, how I’d felt every bit of her clench and quake under me, the way she’d let go, the way she’d begged… I could get off on the memory alone.

  Quietly, I got up, removing myself from the situation. Eliminating the temptation to wake her up and do it all again.

  Outside of the blacked-out bedroom, the house was light and warm. I threw on a pot of coffee and stretched out in a chair by the sliding glass door to the backyard to watch the tail end of the sunrise.

  This was my favorite time of day. When the world seemed new, and life seemed full of possibilities. It was cheesy, but this morning really did feel like a fresh start. Like I could choose the kind of man I was going to be, and he could be someone different. Someone not so calculating, structured or unfeeling. I could be more than who she thought I was. More than just a killer. I could be the type of man who’d put his life on the line to save a woman.

  But first, I had to save her sister.

  That wouldn’t happen from here, though. As dangerous as it was, we’d need to head back to the city. I’d need to connect with my local resources—not the kind of resources you called up on the phone for a friendly Sunday morning chat. Those who knew the word on the street, lived on them. Sometimes literally.

  We’d need to gear up for this fight. I wasn’t willing to go in guns blazing without truly knowing what I was up against. That meant Kira would need to spill her guts, whether she trusted me or not. She’d need to give me more than a name. I’d need it all. I wanted it all.

  Hell, I wanted every single part of her.

  I didn’t care that it was insane.

  I was on my second cup of coffee and the sun was bright and full before I heard her pad into the room behind me.

  She hovered out of sight for a moment, the electricity in the air letting me know she was close. “Why’d you kill him?” Her sudden question was harsh, but once again, her voice was enticing, drawing me in, just like the first time.

  “You’re going to have to specify, kitten. It’s a long list.”

  She was quiet, and I was tempted to turn, to see her reaction, but I knew the game she was playing, and I wouldn’t get caught up in her attempt to push me away again. I waited out her silence, sipping my coffee and staring into the yard.

  When she finally stepped into view, she took my breath away. Her long dark hair was tied in a loose braid, her face was free of make-up, and she was wearing nothing but my shirt. The dried blood on the sleeve made her look wicked, and her gorgeous bare legs made my cock stir.

  “How many?” she whispered.

  “If you’re asking how many I’ve killed for profit the answer is thirty-three. If you’re expecting me to know a lifetime tally, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

  “You said it’s not random.”

  “It’s not. It never was. At least, it was never supposed to be.”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  I shook my head with a heavy sigh, feeling that same old, tired ache creeping in. “In the Marines, we were taught to follow orders. Shoot on command. We never questioned it, never thought we might get it wrong—we were keeping the country safe. The killing wasn’t random, but there were unintended casualties. Lives we shouldn’t have taken. I don’t know how many.”

  “I still don’t understand.” She turned to me, leaning her back against the glass door with her arms folded defensively across her chest. “If you were in the Marines, you had honor. Why the fuck would you turn to this? A paid killer.”

  “Because someone has to do it,” I grit, standing to face her. “I came home because I had to, thinking I’d done what I could, but when I got here, I realized shit was worse than ever. There’s nothing honorable about protecting greed and corruption, and when I look around, Kira, that’s all I fucking see. Criminals running the city. It pisses me off that men like Bowen Alexander and Nikolai Drevnerussky got to keep their freedom—keep their lives—while men like me were dying to protect them, and no one’s doing anything about it. No one cares.”

  My hands fisted at my sides, simmering anger barely contained. Anger I’d dismissed as ancient history. A feeling I’d pretended to have dealt with, because on its own, if left unchecked, the feeling would cripple me. Like all the other emotions I’d pushed out of mind, this one would only get in my way.

  “I care,” I declared, my tone and my temper held even. “There was someone who needed my help. Someone important to me. The police weren’t doing anything. No one was doing anything. So I decided to fix it myself.”

  “By killing?”

  “No, Kira, that’s the problem… I didn’t kill the first man when I should have, and because of that, I failed.” I bit down on the words, fighting back my sudden urge to scream. “The person I wanted to help died because of me. That’s when I realized I needed to fight fire with fire. Killing is the only language these men understand, but I do it from the inside, where they don’t even recognize the threat. They never see me coming.”

  “So, what, you think you’re some kind of vigilante? If you believe that, then why Stasevich?”

  “You tell me, kitten.” I stalked toward her, crowding her up against the glass. “Why Stasevich? What information did he have?”

  Her breath grew short and she tried to move away, but I refused to give her space. Not now. She had questions, but I wanted answers—I needed to understand her. Hell, I needed to understand my own goddamn motivations. I still hadn’t figured out why I was diving in head first to help her when I’d promised myself I’d never let this business get personal again. I just hoped if I was playing hero it was for the right reasons, and not simply because I liked the feel of her pussy wrapped around my cock.

  “Kira.” I blocked her sidestep, pinning her against the glass by her shoulders, turned on by the frustrated fury I could sense bubbling under her surface. “If you want me to find your sister, I need you to tell me.”

  She shook her head, but answered, “He knew…” She breathed deep, her chest rising slowly. “Stasevich knew where Nikolai keeps the girls.”

  “Girls?”

  “Yes. Nik has dozens of them, although most he doesn’t hold onto for long. The sick fucker sells them, like they’re cattle. Worse. But he keeps the ones he likes.” Her voice hitched. “Nori was always his favorite.”

  I squeezed her arms a little tighter. “And how would a scientist know about that?” I asked, silently wondering how she’d learned this truth.

  “Because he wasn’t just a scientist.” Her eyes squeezed shut. “He was supplying Nik with drugs.”

  “Yes, he was,” I agreed, already knowing the answer. “Drugs that were probably used on those girls. But Nikolai wasn’t the only one. Stasevich was supplying a lot of drugs to a lot of people.” I grasped her chin, forcing her to look at me. “And now he’s not.”

  Her breath stuttered again, but she caught it before answering, “And now he’s not.”


  We held each other’s stare, neither willing to concede.

  My hand smoothed down over her neck, holding softly to the base of her throat where her pulse was strumming wild. “Trust me yet, kitten?”

  “No.” Her gaze dropped to my lips.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Very.” She swallowed hard, tilting her chin up, tempting me with her defiant stare.

  “And yet, you still want to fuck me, don’t you?”

  Her loud and needy groan vibrated through my hand. Fuck, that sound traveled straight to my cock.

  “Say it,” I urged, getting off on hearing her need.

  “No,” she denied as her hands moved to open my pants.

  Grabbing hold of her wrists, I stopped her before she could reach my skin. “Take off the shirt, kitten.”

  Her eyes didn’t leave me as she fumbled with the buttons.

  I watched in anxious anticipation as she revealed more of herself. She withheld her trust and secrets, even as she revealed her body. It was enough. For now, I’d take whatever I could get.

  My pants were off before she’d made it past the third button on the shirt. Done with waiting, I tore the shirt open, the remaining buttons hitting the floor.

  She gasped.

  “Forget it,” I told her, taking in her bare form. “It was already ruined.”

  Kira was head to toe strength. Made of pure, cut muscle and dogged determination. Her body was lean, with firm, peaked breasts, and a waist that narrowed slightly above flared hips that lead to the most glorious, shapely thighs I’d ever seen.

  She was a wildcat. A warrior goddess.

  The shirt joined my pants on the floor. The entire suit was now garbage, and I couldn’t care less.

  I took her mouth hard as I pressed her back up against the door, her skin squeaking over the glass as I lifted her, wrapping her legs around my waist.

  She kissed me back. Her tongue dueling hotly with mine, her excited moans captured by my mouth.

  I was burning up. My need for her outweighing the need for control.

  “Say it,” I urged against her mouth.

  She slipped her hand between us, finding my cock and holding on while she sunk down onto me. “No,” she groaned loudly.

  “Kira, I need you to say it.” The last thread of my restraint fraying.

  “No,” she repeated, her wet heat squeezing me tight. “I don’t want to fuck you, Bodhi. I want you to fuck me. Hard.”

  “I can do that,” I growled, taking her mouth, unable to hold back. Giving into the sensation, into her demand, I held her tight and fucked her. Hard.

  Breaking our kiss, I grunted, “Is this what you wanted?”

  “No,” she cried, her arms wrapping tight around my neck, fusing our bodies together.

  So, I fucked her harder. I was sweating, my legs were shaking, and my heart raced frantically as I hammered into her. The glass door creaked from the momentum, the sound joined by her mewling, passionate cries.

  “Yes,” she chanted. “Fuck, yes, fuck, fuck.”

  Each muttered curse had my balls drawing tighter. I was panting, close to coming or collapsing, but that didn’t stop me from banging her with fervor.

  I was unrelenting. Out of my mind with the need to please her.

  “That’s it, kitten” I encouraged when her core started to pulse. “Give me all you got.”

  With another strangled cry, she did.

  Her body locked tight around me as her pussy spasmed, trying to milk me, but I pulled out at the last minute, bathing her stomach as I came. Hard.

  “Oh, my fucking God,” she mumbled, her head falling to the crook of my neck.

  I held her like that for another moment as we both came down, her lips on my neck, hands in my hair, and my cum decorating her body.

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered into her hair. “I should’ve worn a condom.”

  I’d fucked up. There was no way to deny it. I couldn’t pretend away the shame, and even if I could, I didn’t think I should.

  Slowly, I lowered her to the floor. “You okay?” I asked, seeking the truth in her gaze.

  But once again, she was back to avoiding—refusing to look me in the eye.

  “Kitten, if you’re brave enough to ask me fuck you, then you can at least acknowledge me afterward. It’s a simple question. I’m not looking for a novel, yes or no will do.”

  Maybe she could read my turmoil, or maybe she felt my shame, whatever the reason, she listened. Her eyes flew up to mine, not full of aggression the way I’d expected, but brimming with tears.

  “Kira…” I soothed, worried I’d transferred my shame onto her. “I’m sorry.”

  She blinked, her chin trembling, as a single droplet escaped. The wet streak glistened on her luminescent skin, showcasing her pain. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled sharply, holding her breath. Holding back the tremors and the tears.

  How much emotion could one person hold? And how the hell had I ever thought this made her weak?

  When she finally released her breath, it was a hot flush of air. Her features hardened, and her tears dried as a fire smoldered within her. She was fantastic.

  I wanted to feel her wrath, her punishment and pain. Wanted to let her devour me—body first, then whatever spirit I might possess. I invited her fury to consume me, to fill me up with something other than the compulsive order and calculated odds my life had become.

  Instead, she ran her finger up her inner thigh, over her sex, and across her stomach, dragging that single digit through the mess I’d made.

  Despite the overrun of emotion, despite my lack of sleep, despite having just come all over her, my softening cock was suddenly hard again.

  She smirked, seeing the lust take over my body. With that wicked grin still in place, she trailed her wet finger higher, circling a nipple before dragging it up to her mouth. When her tongue darted out to lick, I thought I’d lost feeling to my limbs. But when she popped that finger in her mouth and sucked—her cheeks hollowing and her eyes rolling back in her head—I thought I might’ve died.

  With a loud pop she pulled her finger from her mouth and replied, “No.”

  I couldn’t remember the question. I stood, mute, my growing erection refuting my all-mighty control.

  “You lied,” she muttered before walking away. “I don’t regret a fucking thing.”

  Kira

  “Jeans or sweats?” Bodhi offered, holding out the items in question as I stood, wrapped in a ridiculous, fluffy pink towel with my hair dripping wet, in the middle of his sister’s guest bedroom.

  I couldn’t believe he was willing to look at me, let alone talk to me after what I’d done. Taunting him and then walking away. It was ruthless, but I’d needed to keep the upper hand.

  Bodhi had pushed my limits, first with his revelation, then with his cock.

  Still, I had a hard time feeling bad about it. And that was the problem—I didn’t feel bad about anything. Not a shred of fucking regret.

  After the chase last night, fearing for my life and the life of my sister, and worrying about Anna and Gigi, I couldn’t believe I’d lost myself to sex. Lost myself to a man—Bodhi Decker out of all of them—and wasn’t feeling even a hint of remorse for it.

  It was bad enough he was a killer, but now I knew he was a killer with a moral code. One that made sense. One I wanted to get behind.

  Suddenly, I liked the idea of having a killer on my side. The men I was up against wouldn’t hesitate to cut my throat. At least with Bodhi on my team, my odds of survival weren’t so uneven.

  Maybe I shouldn’t believe him. The trust he was seeking wasn’t something I should easily give. But I did trust him. At least, I trusted his story was true. The haunted look in his eyes wasn’t fake, and even though he tried to hide it, his flash of rage spoke louder and truer than any of the words he’d given me.

  Fuck. I was falling for him. Just like I knew I would.

  It was like he could sense my weakness. Like my broken edges were a
ll sticking out and he was lifting them to get under my skin. He wasn’t afraid of the darkness inside me. The storm of wild and deadly wasn’t enough to keep him out.

  I needed to get back to the fighting. Fucking had turned me too goddamn soft.

  It shouldn’t matter that he was a killer with a conscience. He was still a killer, and despite showing concern, showing care—moral fucking code or not—weren’t they all the same?

  Guilt hit me then. Terrible, crushing guilt.

  Thank God for it, even if it wasn’t for the reasons I’d expected, I was happy to finally feel it. This I recognized—a familiar feeling that might stop me from doing something stupid, like tell him what was on my mind. All my regrets. All my secrets.

  “You sure your sister won’t mind?” I reached for the jeans and T-shirt. “These look brand new.”

  “They probably are, but she won’t mind. She lives in scrubs.”

  We stood in silence a moment, both of us hanging onto the clothes, each staring into the other’s eyes.

  “You good now?” he asked boldly, an eyebrow raised.

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “Things have fallen apart, we’re in danger, and I’ve got responsibilities I need to take care of. Yet, here I am, fucking around with you, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.”

  Bodhi used my hold on the jeans to draw me closer to him. He moved the clothes out of the way, tossing them on the bed, before running his fingers over my bare shoulders and down my arms, until he was holding my hands.

  He hadn’t showered yet and was wearing his dress pants.

  Only his pants.

  His chest and shoulders were broad and strong. His abs were lean and rippling. His trim waist dropped to that all-enticing V, and a trail of dark hair that continued below his waistband, leading to what I knew was an incredibly impressive cock.

  God, he was nice to look at.

  When his hands smoothed over my skin, lighting a new spark of desire, it reminded me of how nice he’d felt inside of me, too. Really, really fucking nice.

  We had problems to solve and lives to rebuild. This time together was nothing more than a distraction. Wasted time I couldn’t really afford. Time none of those girls could afford, my sister included. She shouldn’t lose any more precious moments with her daughter for the sake of my newly awoken sexual appetite.