“Well, that certainly explains it.”
“There’s only one thing I don’t know about you, Hunter.”
His tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. “Only one?”
“How good you are in bed.”
He hisses in a breath. “And you’d like to find out.”
“Yes. It’s a onetime offer, good only for tonight.”
“And what happens afterward?” he asks, stealing the last morsel of my lemon meringue pie from my plate.
“You go your way and I’ll go mine. No strings attached.”
He brings the lemon meringue to my lips. I open my mouth, swallow. When I lick the remnants from my lips, his eyes spark with blue fire.
He folds the napkin on the table, pushes it forward a little. “All right.”
Really? “Really?”
“Yes. I could use a tune-up.” After tossing the tip on the table, he grabs the check and stands up. His other hand he holds out to me.
I shimmy from the booth in my tight skirt. Without letting go of me, he fishes out enough money from his jeans pocket to pay the bill at the cash register.
Outside, he leads me to the SUV and opens the passenger door. I slide in. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Where on earth would I go? We’re just off the interstate. The only buildings nearby are the motel and the diner.
While I wait in the Cherokee, he checks us into the hotel. The room’s on the second floor, so the climb up gives me time to rethink the situation. Do I really want to do this? Have sex with this man? I shiver. Yes. Yes, I do.
He takes his time inserting the key card into the slot. Turns on the light. “This okay?”
“Yes,” I say breathlessly. I’ve never propositioned a man before. I fully expected him to say no. But it’s too late to back out now. “You do have condoms.”
He closes the door behind us and pats his pants pocket. “Always carry some with me.”
“Do you want to shower?”
“No, Cristina.” He hauls me to him. “I want to fuck,” he says before lowering his mouth to mine. I expect power and heat, but he’s amazingly gentle, tasting me, exploring me, licking the seam of my lips.
Wanting to return the favor, I whimper with frustration. My hands are caught against the steel of his chest so there’s no chance to trail my hands over his arms, his abs, his cock.
He stops the kissing to sweep his tongue over his lips. “You taste sweet.”
“It’s the pie.”
His sensuous mouth curves into a grin. “And you.” Putting distance between us, he unbuttons his shirt, tosses it over a chair. His chest is a thing of beauty, all chiseled abs and sculpted pecs, along with a scar or two. An especially nasty one lies low on his stomach. And what looks like burn marks pucker his arms.
“What happened there?” I brush my hand across the blemished skin on his abdomen.
“Didn’t move fast enough.”
“And here?” I touch one of the scars on his arm.
“An explosion.”
I gasp. “You’ve led a dangerous life.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” He steps back and stares at me. “Take off your blouse.”
“Don’t you want to do it?”
“No. I want you to strip. Don’t stop until I say so.”
He’s not making this easy, but then I did ask for it. If a striptease is what he wants, I’m going to do my damndest to give it to him. Screwing up my courage, my hand goes to the top button of my blouse, the second, all the way down. Once they’re all unfastened, I tug slowly until the blouse is free. I take it off and throw it at him.
Catching it, he takes a whiff, and his eyes turn a stormy blue.
I tug down my skirt zipper, shimmy the garment off me. All I have on beneath is a thong. I squat on my haunches, come back up, turn around, bend so my tush is pushed right against him. He’s so damned tall, though, all I’m brushing against are his legs. Nowhere near the Promised Land.
With my back to him, I straighten up and roll down the straps, unclasp the bra. Holding it against my unfettered breasts, I turn back around.
“Lose the damn bra,” he growls through clenched teeth.
I shake my head, and my curls come loose, tumbling down my back.
He steps close, picks me up by my ass, and grinds against me while he devours my mouth. I wrap my legs around him. While holding me to him, he rips off my bra and slings it halfway across the room. Then he walks us to the bed and tosses me on it.
I come up on my elbows and watch him loosen his belt buckle and snap it free. His hand goes to his button fly, and one by one he slips them open while keeping his hot gaze on me. He steps out of his jeans, and I swallow hard. He’s got nothing on underneath.
A little drool escapes the corner of my mouth as I gaze at the most magnificent erection I’ve ever seen. The ruddy color of the head, the size and girth. He’s more than fine. The damn thing curls almost all the way up to his belly button.
“Condom?” I breathe out.
He opens his hand, and there it is, a foil packet he tears open with his teeth. He rolls it over him while keeping his gaze on me. And then he kneels on the bed.
“How do you want it? Hard and fast? Or slow and tender?”
“Hard.” I gulp. “And hard.”
He chuckles. “Whatever the lady wants.”
One-handed, he grabs my ass and pulls me under him. When he works my clit, I almost come from his touch alone.
“Ready?” his deep voice asks.
I nod. I don’t think I have enough spit in my mouth to speak.
With one hand he notches his cock in my entrance. With the other he traps both of mine and raises them above my head. “I like to be in control. You understand?”
I bob my chin up and down again and let him do what he will with me.
We arrive at Madrigal’s house after midnight. Good thing he’s the head of security; no boss to question what took so long. The guard on duty buzzes us in. Once we’re inside, he communicates which room has been assigned to me. I grab the one suitcase I’ll need for tonight and leave the rest of the things in the SUV. My flight for Tampa doesn’t leave until the afternoon, so there’ll be plenty of time in the morning to retrieve and stash the rest of my things.
When we say good-night at the door to my room, Hunter brushes his thumb over my mouth, and I bite the tip. He brings it to his mouth and licks away the hurt. I want him to kiss me one last time, but without a word of good-bye, he pivots military-style and walks away from me.
Chapter 31
Madrigal
The trip back from Roanoke where the bar examination took place will take approximately three hours along I-81. Two hours into the trip, I make a pit stop to pee and grab a bottle of cold water from a mini-mart. Just as I’m getting back in my car, my cell rings. Steele. Odd. I called him before I left to let him know about my estimated time of arrival. Is he getting antsy about my return?
“Hi,” I say. “Miss me?”
“Yes. How soon will you be home?”
“In an hour or so.”
“Okay.” He sounds a bit tense.
“Anything wrong?”
“No. I just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all. See you soon?”
“Okay.”
“Madrigal?” he says just a beat before I hang up.
“Yes.”
“I love you.”
“What?” He blurts this out now? When I’m nowhere near him?
“You heard me. Bye.” And he’s gone.
Did he really say he loves me? I giggle. Yeah, he did. My heart flutters. I’ve always known he cares for me, so his declaration of love makes sense. How do I feel about him? I love the way he treats me, the things we do in bed. He’s smart and protective. Sometimes a little too much. But his heart’s in the right place. I don’t know if the way I feel about him amounts to love, though. He’s older and wiser, knows what he wants. But there’s so much about him I don’t know. He shuts down whenever I bring up his
childhood, his past, only sharing what he wants. I’ll need more than that from him, a lot more, if I’m to trust him with my love. Sliding back behind the steering wheel, I start the car and point it toward the highway. Time enough after I get home to discuss what he just said.
When I arrive home an hour later, a dozen vehicles block the driveway, some of them police cruisers, one an EMT transport. What on earth’s going on? My first thought is of Madison, the second of Steele. His voice had sounded strange on the phone. Has something happened? I practically fall out of my SUV in my hurry to climb down and race up the driveway, past the myriad of uniformed police.
But before I get to the house, one of them blocks my way. “You can’t go inside, ma’am.”
“Of course I can. It’s my home.”
“You’re Madrigal Berkeley?”
“Yes. What’s wrong?”
“Please come with me.” Taking me by the elbow, he leads me through the throng. As we pass them, one and all stare at me with concern in their eyes.
“Please tell me. What’s wrong? Is my sister hurt?”
“Your questions will be answered in a moment, ma’am.”
There’s a commotion by the front door, and then Steele is standing in front of me.
I grab him by the lapels of his jacket, my surety in a world gone topsy-turvy. “What’s going on?”
He clamps his hands on my arms. “Madison’s been kidnapped.”
My knees wobble, and he wraps his arm around me to keep me from dropping to the ground. “Who took her? When did this happen?”
“Let’s step inside so we can talk.”
The officer who brought me this far pushes people aside to give us a clear path to the foyer. On the way, I pelt Steele with questions. “How could this be? Wasn’t Alicia Carson with her?”
“Yes, they went shopping.” Men and women crowd the inside of my home, some in uniforms, others in suits. I don’t know a single one of them.
A blond man in a dark jacket steps forward. “Ms. Berkeley?”
“Yes.”
He flashes an ID with “FBI” stamped on it. “I’m Agent Riley O’Connor. Can we talk?”
“In a minute,” Steele says, pulling me into the living room. As soon as we step through, he locks the French doors behind us. After he leads me to the couch and orders me to sit, he steps to the drink cart and pours scotch into a tumbler. When he returns, he pushes it toward me. “Drink.”
“I hate that stuff.”
“I know. Drink it anyway.”
Knowing better than to argue with him, I knock it back in one gulp and slam down the glass. “Talk.”
“Madison wanted to buy a present for Philippe, some riding trinket she’d seen at a Tysons Corner shop. An hour ago, we got a phone call from the police. Alicia Carson was shot and Madison kidnapped. Alicia’s been taken to the ER at Fairfax Hospital.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s in surgery right now. We’ll know in a couple of hours. After the kidnapper shot Alicia, he pushed Madison into his car and, wheels squealing, took off. Nobody got the license plate number. They only caught a Virginia tag.” He waves toward the French doors. On the other side, Agent O’Connor, among others, is blatantly staring into the room. “As you can see, Fairfax and Loudoun County police are here. So is the FBI’s Child Abduction Rapid Deployment Team. They’ve questioned the staff, but they need to talk to you.”
My heart’s in my throat. Is Madison hurt? In pain? I refuse to consider anything more than that. “Who could have taken her? And why?”
“They have no idea. They’re looking at footage from security cameras, but so far they’ve found nothing.”
“How could that be? That’s a busy mall.”
“I don’t know. I wish to God I did.” He rakes a hand through his hair. It’s only now I notice his disheveled appearance. He’s normally so well dressed, but his tie is crooked and his jacket’s buttoned up wrong.
“I can’t imagine Madison going quietly. She’s strong.”
“Yes, she is.” He kneels in front of me, tucks my cold hands between his. I crave his warmth, his strength, with every ounce of me. “She’s not hurt, Madrigal. You have to believe that. He took her for a reason.”
“Such as?”
“My guess would be money. Your grandfather’s murder has been in the news, and photos of you and Madison have been splattered all over the media. Somebody figured out how to make a quick buck by grabbing her and demanding ransom. You’ll see.”
A sob escapes me.
“Madison has spirit. She’s a brave girl. She’ll get through this.”
“Will she get through this?”
“Yes, she will. You must believe this.”
“I can’t lose her. Not now.”
Steele wraps his arms around me. I lean against him to draw from his strength.
“You need to talk to Agent O’Connor,” he says. “Should I let him in?”
“I need a minute.”
“You don’t have one, sweetheart. The sooner they piece together the facts, the faster they’ll find Madison.”
I sit up, brush back my hair, take a deep breath. “Okay.”
Steele opens the door and motions Agent O’Connor into the room. No sooner does he do that than my cell phone chirps. It’s Brad Holcomb. I debate letting it go to voice mail, but some sixth sense tells me to answer the call. “Brad, I can’t talk to you right now. My sister’s missing.”
“I know. Dad took her.”
I gesture wildly to the two men in the room and turn on the speakerphone. “Dr. Holcomb took her? Why?”
“Money. What else? He asked me to call you. He wants three million dollars deposited into a Cayman offshore account. You have twenty-four hours to do so. The minute he gets the confirmation the money is there, he’ll let Madison go.”
“He won’t get away with this, Brad. The FBI is looking for him.”
“I know that. Don’t you think I know that? But he’s not thinking clearly. Not when he’s about to lose everything he owns. You got something to write with? He wants me to give you the bank information.”
Charlie had called it. A desperate man will take desperate measures.
Agent O’Connor retrieves a pad and pen from the inside of his jacket. Pen poised over the pad, he nods.
“Go ahead,” I say into the phone. Once Brad rattles off the details, Agent O’Connor holds the pad in front of me so I can read the bank information back to Brad. A glance at my watch tells me it’s after closing hours at the bank. “It’s past five. Banks won’t open again until tomorrow. I won’t be able to do anything until then.”
“As long as the money’s in his bank account by close of business tomorrow, everything will be fine. If not, I don’t know what he’ll do. He’s not kidding around, Madrigal.”
“I’ll take care of it. But if he hurts one hair on Madison’s head—”
“He won’t if you wire the money. Just remember, he’s a doctor with access to drugs. He can give her a lethal injection and walk away.”
Gorge rises in my throat. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“He’s already done it.”
I clutch the cell so tight my fingers hurt. “What are you talking about?”
“His medical facility? Families use it to get rid of rich relatives who’ve lived just a little too long. He admits those poor souls, and they end up dead. No one complains. Least of all the family members. That’s how he kept us afloat all these years. I think he’s planning to go somewhere with the three million and start over again.”
“The police will find him and bring him back.”
“Not if he ends up in a country with no extradition treaty with the United States.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“He’s been planning an escape for years. I convinced him to wait. That’s why I proposed to you. We were going to use your money to pay off the debts we’ve racked up. But when you turned me down, he moved up his timetable.”
“If you didn’t agree to marry me. Yes.”
“He’s insane.”
“I know, but he’s my father. And I don’t want him to die.”
When the police catch up with him, and I have to believe they will, I wouldn’t put odds on his father making it out alive. “Let me hang up so I can arrange for the money.”
“Okay.”
“What’s his address?” Agent O’Connor asks as soon as I end the call.
I rattle off the location that’s only a few miles from us.
“I’ll arrange for a team to head there now.”
“Okay.”
O’Connor steps out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Wrapping my arms around my waist, I pace up and down the rug. “I don’t know what to do!”
“About the money?” Steele asks.
“Yes. Even if I pay him, he may still kill Madison.”
He walks up to me, throws his arms around me, drops a kiss on my head. “He won’t. Kidnapping her is bad enough, but if he harms her, he’s done for. He’s not dumb. He knows the consequences of such an action.”
“Yes, but he’s desperate.” Think, Madrigal, think. I take a deep breath, let it out. The money. I need to take care of that first. “The bank manager. His number is in Gramps’s study, in the bottom drawer with his business papers. Please go get it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I have to believe he’ll let her live as long as I pay him.”
As soon as he leaves, the FBI operative steps back in. “I have someone tracking the GPS in Dr. Holcomb’s car. We’ll find him, Ms. Berkeley, don’t worry. We’ll be leaving for his house in five minutes.”
“I want to go with you.”
“I’m not sure that’s wise.”
“I know Brad. He was my boyfriend at one time.”
Steele overhears this as he steps back into the room. His frown intensifies. “Here,” he says, handing me a piece of paper with a name and a phone number.
Something chirps in Agent O’Connor’s jacket. His cell. He retrieves it and reads the message. “We’ve tracked the GPS in his car as far as the Potomac River. A team’s been dispatched to the location. While we wait for their report, I’m headed out.”
Shattered Trust (Shattered #2) Page 18