Prodigal Son

by Debra Mullins

  The past twenty-four hours had doused him and wrung him out: his powers going wacky, his mother being shot at, new players with unfamiliar abilities.

  And Cara.

  Cara, so pretty and sexy and appealing to him on levels no woman had ever touched. So loyal, so loving, so determined to rescue her stepbrother no matter what. He wanted to keep her close, to bask in her warmth. But the vision of her death haunted him, raising protective instincts he hadn’t felt in years. He’d never let anyone close enough. He’d wanted it that way, especially after what had happened with Darius.

  He shut his eyes, the ever-present guilt washing over him. Even after five years, it never dissolved, never slipped away. It lingered, coloring everything he did, keeping him at arms’ length from other people for fear that the Hunter would win the battle this time. Would succeed in taking another life.

  His actions had caused one man’s death. Had nearly killed Darius.

  That moment had hardened him, changed him. With one accidental death on his conscience and the knowledge that his brother would live, he’d walked away from his family, from their mandate to use their powers only for the good of others. Nothing good existed in him. He’d failed at the hero biz, and it was better for everyone if he stayed away. At least then there would be no more accidents for the people he loved.

  But now there was Cara, a woman who slipped past his defenses as if they were butter. A woman whose devotion to her stepbrother reminded him what love was all about. A woman who starred in a vision where she’d die violently, a vision that dragged him back reluctantly into the role of hero.

  The Hunter relished the challenge; Rafe just longed for Cara.

  He sighed, then leaned back against the SUV, looking up at the night sky glittering with stars. It was a lucky thing Ilargi hid half her face tonight, because a full moon would have made things more difficult. The Hunter fought hardest for control during the full moon, and he doubted he would have been able to walk away from Cara under its light. But the relief was only temporary. The full moon would be upon them in another week. He had to get to the bottom of this whole mess and send Cara safely back east before then.

  While he still could let her go.

  He turned around, opened the door to the SUV and pulled out Cara’s carry-on bag. Flipping the lock on the remote, he faced the hotel room door.

  It promised to be a hellish night.

  CHAPTER NINE

  When Cara opened her eyes the next morning, the first thing she saw was the rumpled bed next to hers. The empty rumpled bed.

  Rafe.

  She jerked into a sitting position, looking around the room for him. The lights were off, and the drapes remained shut, though enough sunlight sneaked past the edges for her to see that no one sat at the tiny table beside the TV. The bathroom door stood open. The only sounds that reached her ears were the muffled conversations of people in rooms beside hers, and the distant drone of a TV.

  She eased back the covers and got to her feet. Where was he? What about all that talk of protecting her? Of teaming up? Had he left her here to go after Danny himself?

  The notion chilled her, and she wrapped her arms around her middle. She hadn’t thought Rafe to be the type to ditch her in the middle of the desert, but she’d been wrong about men before. She kept hoping each time would be different. That she’d finally meet a guy who deserved her trust.

  She’d kinda thought Rafe might be that guy.

  Okay, let’s say he had left her here to go after Danny on his own. What now?

  Phone book. Find a cab company—she winced as she imagined the cost—and somehow get back to Vegas. Once there, she could formulate a plan.

  She spotted the phone book on the table and started toward it. A rustling from outside her door made her freeze. She noticed Rafe’s black duffle bag tucked on the far side of the bed just as the door creaked open. Sunlight streamed in behind the silhouette of a man.

  “Oh, good, you’re up.” Rafe stepped into the room and let the door shut behind him. In one hand he juggled a cardboard beverage tray with two cups of coffee in it, and in the other he held a brown paper bag. “I went to get gas and picked up some breakfast.”

  Breakfast. He hadn’t left her.

  “I didn’t know where you were.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, not quite accusing yet way too vulnerable.

  “I’m always up early.” He went over to the table and set everything down, then turned to face her. “You just wake up?”

  “Yeah.” She took a deep breath. “Sorry. I didn’t know what to think when I woke up and you were gone.”

  “You were out cold. Didn’t you get my note?”

  “Note?”

  “I left you a note, telling you where I’d gone.” His expression sobered as he studied her face. “You thought I’d taken off without you?”

  She shrugged and glanced away, the mere idea seeming foolish now. “Like I said, I didn’t know what to think.”

  He went into the bathroom and came back a minute later with a piece of motel stationery, which he pressed into her hand. “I stuck it on the bathroom mirror with some duct tape. I figured that would be your first stop.”

  His gentle tone only made things worse. She read the note, her stomach sinking as her own foolishness became even more evident.

  WENT FOR GAS AND COFFEE. BE BACK SOON.

  DON’T LEAVE THE ROOM! RAFE

  She pushed back her unruly hair and made herself look at him. “I feel really dumb.”

  “You’re not dumb.”

  She couldn’t stand the kindness, the patience in his eyes, not when she clearly stood in the wrong. “You don’t have to be nice about it. I jumped to conclusions.”

  “You don’t know me that well. It’s understandable.”

  “Will you stop being so sweet about this?” She stalked over to the table and dropped the note on it.

  “Sweet, huh?” The obvious amusement in his tone had her looking back at him. “I’ve been called a lot of things. Sweet isn’t one of them.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Look, I’m in this until we find Danny and until I know you’re safe. I’m not going to leave you stuck in the middle of nowhere while I go chase my bounty.”

  “God, it sounds awful when you put it like that. I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged, but she could tell she’d offended him. “Like I said, you don’t know me that well. If you did, you’d know I would never put you in danger. You’re under my protection.”

  “Sorry. I really am sorry.” She ran both hands over her sleep-mussed hair. “Look, let me wash up and then I’ll come back out here and be a different person.”

  She started past him, but he halted her with a hand on her arm. He didn’t speak until she looked at him. “I don’t want you to be a different person.”

  “Oh, come on.” She tried to keep her tone light. “I promise, I’ll be better after I have my coffee.”

  “I don’t think you could get much better,” he murmured.

  That quickly, awareness flared to life. They were alone in a darkened motel room with two rumpled beds only steps away. She was wearing her favorite pink cotton sleep set with nothing underneath, while he was fully dressed. His scent tickled her nose, clean and tangy and deliciously male.

  And he was looking at her like she was a dying man’s banquet.

  The air nearly hummed between them, her blood pounding in her ears. Would he pull her closer? Let her go? The bed was only steps away—but so was the door. His fingers flexed on her skin, then tightened as he drew in a deep breath. Was he going to push her away?

  “You’re being sweet again,” she whispered.

  “Truthful,” he corrected, then let go of her arm.

  The absence of his touch chilled like a winter wind, and she realized she didn’t want him to move away. She wanted him closer. Much closer.

  Stepping in, she raised up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his.

  He didn’t respond f
or about a second. Then a low growl rumbled from his throat, and he dragged her against him, lifting her off her feet as he took her mouth in a hungry, carnal kiss that made her head spin and stars dance behind her closed eyelids.

  She gave herself to the kiss, allowing reason to get swept away beneath a wave of hot, honest passion. She didn’t want to think right now. She didn’t want to analyze. She just wanted to feel.

  The kiss seemed to go on forever, or maybe time stood still, she didn’t know. Didn’t care. All she wanted was more of him—more of his touch, more of his kisses. Just more.

  She moaned the word aloud. He turned and took one step, two, then fell on the nearby bed, rolling her beneath him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, crushed beneath the delicious weight of him. She wanted everything, all of him—over her, around her, inside her.

  He shoved up her shirt, his hand closing around one breast. She ripped her mouth from his, gasping as his lips closed around the beading nipple. He jerked her shirt up some more, baring both breasts, dividing his time between them. She arched her hips into his. So good … but not what she was aching for.

  She squirmed against him, trying to get closer. To get more. For a few torturous minutes he made her wait, driving her to wild distraction with his lips and tongue and teeth until she was whispering his name in a high, pleading tone. Finally he gave in, easing his hand under the leg of her sleep shorts, stoking the fires higher and higher as he followed the muscle of her thigh upward. When his fingers grazed the moist flesh between her thighs, her mind nearly exploded. Starving for the feel of him, for the taste of him, she tore at his shirt, fumbling with the buttons, finally releasing the top three or four. She swept her palms over his chest—solid muscles, lightly furred. She gave a purr in the back of her throat, threading her fingers through the springy hair, gliding her palms against his warm skin. Holy Hannah, did he feel this good everywhere?

  Her fingers tangled in a chain around his neck. She followed the warm metal, closing her hand around a slim, rectangular shape with irregular edges. It felt hot, like his skin.

  “No!” He tried to grab her hand, but she was tangled in the chain. He wedged his fingers beneath hers. For an instant his palm pressed against hers, the pendant between them.

  White light exploded in her mind, heat searing through her body as if she burned alive. Hunger clawed at her, wanting out, wanting release. She struggled for breath, her heart hammering, shaking from the sheer, raw force of what gripped her.

  He pried her fingers free.

  Cool air flooded over her as he jerked his warm body away. She could breathe now. She could think. She could see—and what she saw was Rafe standing by the bed, rapidly doing up the buttons of his shirt.

  “Wow,” she whispered.

  “Take your shower,” he said. “Eat something. We’re leaving soon.” He headed for the door.

  She leaned up on her elbows, blood burning with a kind of hunger she’d never felt before. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to take a walk around the perimeter and make sure we weren’t followed.” He paused with his hand on the knob and looked back at her. “Don’t leave the room.”

  Then he was gone.

  Cara contemplated the closed door, heart pounding, limbs shaking. She’d suspected Rafe Montana would be an exciting lover, and lordy, how true that was. But what had just happened to her? And why had he left so abruptly? Her body throbbed with unreleased desire, and her mind spun with unanswered questions. She’d thought he’d been right there with her. In fact, she knew he’d been turned on. A man couldn’t hide it.

  Then why had he left? Had she done something wrong? Crossed some unspoken boundary?

  Why couldn’t men come with manuals? She was great with computers but not so much with humans. Maybe she’d come on too strong. But the chemistry between them flared like a bonfire, and she couldn’t ignore it.

  Apparently he could.

  With a sigh, she forced her trembling legs to stand and made her way to the bathroom. As she turned on the shower, she thought about the chain Rafe wore around his neck and the pendant on it. The heat from Rafe’s body made whatever it was feel like it was on fire. The whole experience in his arms had literally made her see stars, had taken her to another world.

  She began to strip. She couldn’t deny she was fascinated. He talked about business and protection and then kissed her like he would die if he didn’t. The whole incident had flared out of nowhere, but when he came back, she expected to be on her game—fully dressed and with clean teeth and hair for one. The man was quite capable of dragging her out of the shower dripping wet and shoving her in the truck—and wasn’t that an interesting image?—but she intended to meet him on even footing.

  They weren’t done yet.

  * * *

  Rafe found a vending machine at the other end of the courtyard and fed it some coins to get a Coke. He didn’t usually drink soda this early, but he needed caffeine, and he’d left his coffee in the room.

  With Cara.

  The Coke tumbled to the bottom of the machine, and he grabbed it with some relief. Even the moment it took to pop the top was a welcome distraction from the memory of her beneath him, his hands on that silky skin.

  What the hell was he going to do about this?

  He leaned against the wall and took a chug from the soda. He’d spent most of last night on guard in case the tails from Santutegi had gotten their car going, but the hours had passed without incident. Then, as the room had lightened with the approaching dawn, he’d found himself watching Cara. Last night she’d changed quickly into sleepwear and immediately conked out the second her head had hit the pillow. Throughout the night, she’d somehow wrapped the covers around her like a cocoon, with only her nimbus of honey-colored hair spread across the pillows indicating a human inhabited the bed.

  For some reason her quirky sleeping habits struck a soft spot in his heart. How did she slip past his defenses so easily? He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted, not when she needed protection. Not when the cloud of death still hung over her. But something about her tugged at him, tempting him to mix business with pleasure.

  He’d finally given up getting any decent amount of sleep and gotten up early to go next door to the gas station to get food. Best to keep to the basics. Survival first. He’d thought he had it all under control.

  Then he’d come back and seen her, standing in those cotton pajamas that clung to every curve, her forehead crinkled in worry that he’d ditched her. Insult fought with tenderness. As if he would leave her. As if he could.

  Nope, he was well and truly caught.

  His focus stone practically burned a hole in his chest, still humming with reflections of turbulent emotion. He hadn’t thought to take it off since things had happened so fast. One minute he had been trying to convince Cara he hadn’t abandoned her, and the next he’d had her half naked beneath him. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was or how much he wanted her, not until the crystal had caught her in its grip and echoed her feelings back at him.

  He’d been with a lot of women, many of whom had handled the focus stone, but none of them had ever evoked such a response from it.

  He blew out a long breath and rolled the cold can of soda along his forehead. His entire body still burned, the Hunter very near the surface and howling with sexual frustration. He’d tried ignoring it, but that wasn’t working. Every little thing Cara McGaffigan did caught his attention, enchanted him. He’d had dozens of women in his life, but she left him as rattled as a teenager fumbling with his first bra hooks. With his hormones jacked so high, no wonder her innocent touch on the crystal had nearly sent him straight to orgasm.

  This heat between them was dangerous; it could flare up and distract him at the wrong moment. He couldn’t let that happen. Better if they went for it, took the edge off. All he had to do was take off the crystal beforehand, at least until they went a few rounds and he was more in control.

  He gave a rough laugh
as he realized where his thoughts were going. Who was he kidding? He wanted her, and apparently he wasn’t above justifying it … even to himself.

  He plugged more change into the soda machine, grabbed a second soft drink when it tumbled out, and headed back to the room.

  Headed back to Cara.

  * * *

  “Mr. Bartow, are you free? President Criten is here to see you.”

  “I’m certain Mr. Bartow has time for me.” Jain Criten eased past the young, busty receptionist blocking the doorway of Artie Bartow’s office and smiled at the casino manager, holding out his hand. His bodyguard followed behind and took up a post near the door, his expression both deadly and serious. The pretty brunette cast a questioning glance from him, to Criten, then to Bartow.

  “It’s all right, Nicki.” The casino manager hastily stood and shook hands, then waved the girl away. “Why don’t you go get some coffee?” He looked at Criten. “Would you like some, Your Excellency? Maybe your escort?”

  “No, thank you. Gadi and I ate earlier.” Criten indicated a chair. “May I sit?”

  “Of course, of course.” Bartow sat as well, the chair squeaking at the rotund man’s weight. “Close the door, Nicki,” he said. The receptionist nodded and left the office, closing the door behind her.

  Criten took the opportunity to snag the newspaper from Bartow’s desk, his lips curving as he read the top page. “Checking your horoscope, Mr. Bartow?”

  “Crossword puzzle,” Bartow snapped, then held out his hand. “May I have my paper back please?”

  He was lying. Criten glanced from the blank crossword puzzle to the man’s trembling hand and hesitated just long enough to watch panic flare in Bartow’s eyes. Then he presented his most charming smile and handed back the newspaper. “Of course.”

  “Thank you.” Bartow stuffed the paper into a drawer of his desk, then faced Criten again, the soul of geniality. “What can I do for you today, Your Excellency?”

  “I wish to talk to you about a private matter, not one of state or politics.”

  “Is something wrong?” Bartow came to attention, his concern seemingly genuine. “Is it your room?”