Wicked Lies

by Lora Leigh

  He couldn’t help but be surprised by the fact that she felt right there. In the middle of the living room in a house he hadn’t been able to imagine another woman living in, this woman who called herself Annie just belonged.

  Figuring out why would take a while, he thought. God knew he wanted her in his bed, and he was as possessive as hell over her, but was it love? It didn’t feel like the only love he’d ever really known, but then he’d been a hell of a lot younger then.

  “Hey, ready to take a break?” he asked from the doorway as he unlatched the gate. “You could keep me company while I grill some steaks.”

  Her shoulders stiffened, wariness instantly marring the peace he’d glimpsed in her expression as she played with the puppies.

  “Sounds good,” she responded, giving the puppies a final pet before rising to her feet and turning to face him. “Those puppies are heathens, Jazz,” she said, glancing down as the rambunctious babies jumped against her legs, not quite ready to stop having fun.

  “They can be,” he agreed, grinning as he opened the gate for her.

  She slid past him quickly, giving him just enough time to close the gate before the heathens could follow her into the kitchen.

  Latching the metal barrier he turned and watched her step to the sink, where she washed and dried her hands carefully.

  The distrust in her gaze when she faced him moments later had his chest tightening in regret. Damn her. She had to find a way to trust him. Whatever she was attempting to do she hadn’t managed in the two years she had been in Loudoun. Securing her safety was his highest priority; she may as well begin accepting that.

  For now, he’d rein in the need for answers. Soon enough he would have to demand them.

  “Grill’s out back.” He nodded to the porch as he picked up the steaks he’d prepared and laid on the bar.

  Stepping outside he was aware of her following him until the door closed behind them and Annie stopped, taking in the view.

  The porch wrapped around the house. At the end of the back of the house was the grill, located a step below the porch. The rock patio led to the pool with its waterfall and rock features.

  Glancing back at her, he glimpsed the wistfulness in her expression. There was a hunger there, barely glimpsed, that had him wondering at the life she must have lived before coming to Loudoun. Each time he showed her one of the house’s features that she hadn’t seen yet, that almost hidden hunger would flash in her expression before it was gone again.

  Grilling the steaks Jazz watched as she moved through the backyard, investigating the pool and natural landscaping. He’d tried to keep the look as natural as possible with miniature trees, flowers natural to the mountains around them, and a path made from stones he’d unearthed on the property itself.

  It was a feature he’d created to go with the pool in those first months after the completion of the house. A place where he could think, where he could make sense of changes in his life that had altered too much of what he thought and felt.

  As the steaks finished Annie returned to the house for the potatoes and assortment of sauces and butters he’d set out with the freshly baked garlic bread. Dinner was eaten in a comfortable silence as early evening began to ease over the mountains.

  Refilling their tea glasses, Jazz drew her to the steps leading to the yard before drawing her down to sit on the step in front of him. They were just in time to watch the ducks, along with their ducklings, as they ventured from cover to frolic in the large pond.

  “It’s so beautiful here,” she whispered as they watched the playful waterfowl. “I can’t imagine anyplace more beautiful.”

  The wistful regret in her voice had his senses raging on alert as he sat behind her on the steps. He braced his knees protectively around her and propped his back against the wide post supporting the roof.

  Lifting his tea, Jazz sipped at it rather than speaking.

  “Do you own a lot of land?” she asked then.

  “A bit,” he agreed. “About a hundred acres.”

  “You could get lost in it.” There was that vein of aching hunger inside her.

  She wanted to get lost, he realized. She wanted to hide, and at the same time she was dying to live.

  “You could,” he agreed. “It’s the mountains you could get lost in, though. They’re so deep, so mysterious that whole clans live within them without ever being seen.”

  Her head settled on his knee as he let his fingers rub against her hair, the shell of her ear.

  “What if someone comes looking for them?” she asked, the tension in her voice making him wonder if she thought she could find a haven other than Loudoun.

  “Depends on if they want to be found. If they don’t want to be found, then they won’t be. And enemies disappear when they come searching for them,” he assured her.

  Her breathing hitched.

  God, he wanted to demand those answers again.

  He wanted to make her tell him what she was running from, what she was so scared of. But he’d already pushed her to the point that Jazz had sensed her shutting down, pulling away. Whatever she was running from, whoever she was hiding from, Annie feared it more than she feared anything else.

  “When I was thirteen, I slipped into those mountains to disappear,” he told her, giving her a bit of himself, wondering if she would do the same. “Damned foster system sucked here then. I’d been in so many foster homes they didn’t know where else to send me. And, well, being a burden wasn’t my idea of fun.” He gave a short, almost amused laugh. “I wandered around I don’t know how long, several days. There was water, but I had no idea how to find food. I was about starved out when this old man, Castor Maddox, just steps out from behind a tree, shakes his head at me, then proceeds to set up a fire and roast this fresh rabbit he’d caught.” He chuckled at the memory. “After I ate, he pulls me up and we walk down the mountain to this farm a few miles from here. Toby Benning’s place. He and his wife had lost their only son about ten years before. So this old geezer takes me to the door, and when Toby opens it, old man Maddox pushes me toward it, swats me on the back of my head, and tells me to mind my manners and not shame him.” He glimpsed her smile. “Well, being the badass I thought I was, I turn on him and just ask him what damned business of his it was?” He shook his head, a part of him hating the memory, another part amused by it. “’Cause I found you, boy, makes you part mine, he said. Mind yourself now, don’t make me come back.”

  “You weren’t alone anymore,” she whispered softly. “He wanted you to know you did have someone.”

  The aching loss in her voice had him wishing there was something he could do to ease it.

  She felt alone. He could hear it in her voice, sense it with an instinct he didn’t quite understand yet.

  “We all have someone, baby,” he promised her, wishing he could find a way to convince her that if no one else was, he was there for her. “Sometimes, we just don’t know it.”

  She had him, all she had to do was meet him halfway. He knew she was in danger, and she was smart enough to know she wasn’t fooling him. She had to tell him what the hell was haunting her, soon. There wasn’t a lot of time left. One of the three weeks Cord had given them was gone, and he knew the other man would be making a visit soon. Cord wasn’t one to sit and wait on a deadline, even if it was his own. He’d be touching base soon, and the confrontation might not be pretty.

  * * *

  No, sometimes, Kenni thought, you find out you have no one at all. But she kept the thought to herself as she drew away from him and rose to her feet.

  “I should leave, Jazz. I can’t stay here.” But she hated to go. It was so peaceful there, so warm and so much a part of Jazz. But it was also a part of the young woman she had once been, the one who had believed with all her heart that Jazz belonged to her.

  How naive she’d been that summer. So innocent and certain of herself, of her heart. She would stare at Jazz, and he always seemed to know it. He would smile at her, wink,
or lower the ever-present sunglasses he used to wear before arching a brow as though asking what she wanted or if she had any idea what he could give her.

  What she had wanted had shocked her at the time. No doubt what he could have given her would have shocked her as well. Would he have been surprised? she wondered.

  She doubted he would have been, not then or now.

  He rose as well, took her hand, and led her back into the house.

  “We’ll talk about it after I clean up out here. Go on in and visit with the pups for a bit more, I’ll be finished before you know it,” he promised as he opened the door for her and shooed her inside.

  Kenni moved into the television room where the pups were racing one another across the floor, barking for the sheer hell of it while their parents napped, confident the babies were safe. She was envious of that sense of security, of protection. It was something she hadn’t felt in so long that she’d almost forgotten the sweetness of it.

  Wrapping her arms across her breasts Kenni moved to the wide sliding doors that Marcus and Essie lay in front of. The view of the side of the pool also afforded her a view of the grill deck, where Jazz was closing the steel appliance.

  The shaggy fall of his thick black hair at the back of his neck made her fingers itch to burrow through the heavy strands. Broad shoulders stretched beneath the cotton T-shirt, strong shoulders.

  And he would gladly stand in front of her and protect her from any danger she faced. It was a terrifying thought.

  The memory of Gunny’s blood, so much blood, pooled on that warehouse floor was a nightmare. She’d waited, but he hadn’t come back. His belongings had been thrown around the warehouse, some of them broken. His knife—he would have never left without it—lay in the blood, a testament that something terrible had happened to him.

  Because he’d tried to protect her.

  Covering her lips, her fingers trembling at the memory, Kenni had to fight back the tears that would have filled her eyes.

  Gunny had gone AWOL from the marines the night her mother had been killed. He’d dedicated his entire life to keeping Kenni safe and trying to find out who had given the order to kill his half sister and her daughter. He had given his life to protect her.

  Jazz would do the same, she knew that now. He would stand in front of her and every Kin and Maddox who tried to harm her. And he would die. Jazz, Slade, Zack—they would all give their lives if they had to, too strong to realize they couldn’t win against the force that would descend on them. And even if they did suspect they were going to die, still, they’d give their last breath reaching for a miracle.

  She couldn’t let that happen. Slade had his own family, a son, a wife, a baby on the way. The Kin would destroy all of them.

  God, what was she going to do?

  Pressing the fingers of one hand against the glass, Kenni tried to convince herself he would let her go home. If she could get away from him for just a few hours, then she could run. The Kin would follow her and no one else would be hurt.

  Until they found her.

  And they would find her, they always did.

  Turning away from the view outside she moved to the couch, staring at the puppies as they settled down against their parents, obviously ready for a nap.

  She continued watching the pups play as Jazz made his way into the television room, sitting next to her and watching her for long, silent moments.

  “You have to take me home,” she told him, still watching the pups. “Everything’s fine, I promise, Jazz.”

  It was so hard to walk away from him knowing she wouldn’t see him again.

  “Don’t lie to me. And we both know you’re lying,” he stated warningly. “I won’t let you leave while someone’s out there trying to hurt you,” he continued softly. “Not yet. Give me a day or two to find that driver first. I promise, Slade and Zack are searching for him. It won’t take long to find him.”

  “Jazz—”

  “Don’t fight me on this.” Brushing her hair back from her shoulder, he let his fingers brush against the bare skin, the slight rasp of callused flesh sending a shudder of pleasure racing down her spine.

  Her heart was speeding out of control, her flesh so sensitive, so starved for touch, that the stroke of his fingers had her inhaling sharply in reaction

  “You’ll break me,” she whispered, desperate for him to touch her, terrified of what tomorrow would bring if she let it go any farther.

  “Not in a million years,” he promised as his head lowered to her shoulder, his lips brushing over the curve, weakening her.

  Oh God, how he weakened her.

  A gasp left her lips when he lifted her, pulling her across his lap as his head lowered, their gazes locking as his lips whispered over hers. The softest brush of a kiss and she ached for so much more.

  “Jazz.” What he made her feel was dangerous, for both of them.

  “Come on, baby.” He breathed into that stroke of exquisite pleasure as a grin tugged at his lips. “Be bad with me. Just for a minute. We’ll deal with the rest of it later.”

  “Your minutes last for a long time, Jazz,” she reminded him, achingly aware of his fingers lifting the hem of her top.

  “As long as I can make them last, darlin’. As long as I can make them last.”

  He wasn’t playing anymore.

  If she’d thought his kisses were dominant, experienced before, then they were catastrophically so now. Slanting over hers as he laid her back along the couch, his hard body coming over her, he taught her the meaning of pure, aching hunger. With each deep, penetrating kiss, each lick of his tongue. With each touch of his fingers he drew her farther into a whirlwind of pleasure she didn’t have a hope of resisting.

  She didn’t want to resist.

  She needed him. Needed to taste him as he tasted her, touch him, hold this memory to wrap around her during the long, lonely nights to come.

  Tugging at the material of his T-shirt, she pulled at it until her hands were stroking his sides, over his back. She gloried in the feel of his muscles tightening at her touch. When her nails raked against his flesh, a muttered groan rumbled from his chest, rough and hewn with male lust.

  He pulled back, his shirt gone in less time than it took her to realize he’d actually jerked it off. Then his lips were at the side of her neck, his teeth scraping, his tongue flickering over sensitive flesh until she arched to him with a desperate cry of pleasure. Sharp, hot kisses ran down her neck, the buttons of her blouse released, the sides falling away from the lacy material of her bra.

  The front catch was no obstacle. Flicked open, the cups pushed aside, and Jazz’s marauding lips were given free rein.

  His teeth gripped one nipple, tugged at it until she opened her eyes to stare back at him in dazed fascination. His eyes were so blue, such a startling dark hue, she felt mesmerized for a moment. Then her gaze was caught by his teeth surrounding the cherry-red nipple. He released it, extended his tongue, and licked over it like a treat he’d long awaited.

  “Sensitive?” he asked softly as the lick had her flexing involuntarily.

  “Yes.” And she couldn’t help but arch closer for more.

  “Get ready then,” he warned her. “Because I think I could spend hours just pleasuring your pretty nipples.”

  His lips parted, covered a peak, then sucked it into his mouth with greedy lust.

  Sensation spiked in the tip, slammed through her, struck at her womb, and dragged a desperate cry from her lips as it started all over again. Like electricity, zapping crazily from her nipple to her lower stomach then to her clit. She could feel the slick heat of her response spilling from her vagina to dampen her thighs. Her clit swelled, throbbed, and tormented her with its need to be touched as well.

  As her hips arched Jazz pushed his knee between her thighs, wedging it against the aching center of her body as he gripped her hip with one hand. Her thighs tightened on the pressure, hips lifting, stroking against the denim-covered muscle of his thigh as his lip
s moved to her other nipple.

  Sparks flew across her vision when his mouth consumed the tight point. Tightening on it, suckling it as his tongue raked across it. Sensation upon sensation. His teeth gripped it, then he sucked it in his mouth again as his fingers captured the damp tip of the nipple he’d pleasured first.

  Gripping it between his thumb and forefinger he applied just enough pressure …

  “Oh God, Jazz…” She couldn’t bear it. It was too much sensation, a mix of such pleasure and pain, and yet her body couldn’t get enough of either sensation.

  Her hips worked against his thigh, rolled and pressed, thrust and arched as her clit scraped against the material of her panties. Each arch against the hard muscle of his thigh applied a pressure that stroked the hard little kernel to such a blaze of need, she felt tortured by it.

  “Ah, darlin’, how sweet you are,” he groaned, his lips lifting from her nipple, moving back to her neck, then to her lips once again.

  And she couldn’t get enough of his kisses. Especially when his fingers continued to caress her nipples with sharp, hot flares of sensation. His thigh pressed and rubbed against her, tormenting the bud of her clit as her vagina wept with need.

  She was ready to weep with need.

  Her hands were in his hair, her head tilted back on the couch as his lips and tongue moved down her neck once more, spreading those stinging little kisses back to her breasts.

  “I told you we should have knocked.”

  “Yeah, so we should have.”

  At the sound of the two amused, feminine voices, Jazz was moving. Before the third word was out of the first woman’s lips he had her behind him and a lethal black handgun trained on the speakers.

  Not that it seemed to faze them.

  Hurriedly fixing her clothes behind the shield of Jazz’s broad back, she heard his muttered curse and looked up to see the two women watching them curiously. She expected raving beauties. What she saw instead were two women who were quite pretty, but weren’t the model beauties she would have expected.

  The identical twins stood just inside the entryway to the family room. Dressed in denim, hiking boots, matching tank tops, and matching holstered handguns clipped to the low-slung band of their jeans, they looked like teenagers playing cops and robbers.