by Lora Leigh
The bedroom door slammed behind him, the crack of wood against wood sending an involuntary flinch through her body. The moment he released her she swung around to face him, a blistering tirade on her lips until she glimpsed his expression. It was so tight, so hard, it could have been hewn from marble. The fury raging through him burned in his eyes, though. They were brilliant, like a faceted gem slicing into her before he walked away.
Eyes wide, staring at the apparition stalking across the hardwood floor of the bedroom to the French doors, Kenni couldn’t help but draw in a hard, fortifying breath. Throwing the doors open he stalked out to the deck, his arms extended, fingers gripping the railing before him as he stared into the darkness beyond.
The deck stretched out from the bedroom, the railing surrounding it securely. The only way to reach it was from the bedroom. There were no steps, no access period to the patio below. Now, this was a feature she hadn’t thought of. The deck also shaded the patio outside the living room where Marcus and Essie and their pups often played.
Laying her hands on the railing as she stood several feet from him, Kenni stared down at the water, sadness washing over her. Large flat stones filled the perimeter of the pool, just like a pond. Just as she had dreamed when she was younger.
He’d built the house she’d dreamed of, the pool she’d longed for. The gazebo by the water, the small dock, just as she’d described to him so long ago.
“Why did you do this, Jazz?” she whispered. “Build everything as I dreamed?”
Tension poured from him. It vibrated from him and thickened the air until it felt smothering.
“Why didn’t you contact me?” His voice grated with fury. A fury that lashed at her, tightened her chest, and reminded her of all the nights she had dreamed of contacting him, dreamed he came for her, rescued her. The fact that he hadn’t answered her question became buried by so many emotions, so many memories.
How many nights had she cried for him, cried for her mother, her family? How often had she cried for the brothers she had trusted before the bodyguards sent with her and her mother destroyed her life?
She’d learned fast that the black knights far outweighed the white ones, and damsels in distress were just screwed. She’d learned that the night she found Gunny lying in a pool of his own blood.
“You once told me there are no knights in shining armor,” she whispered. “And I’ve realized, I’m no Cinderella … I couldn’t contact you, I couldn’t let you know, because I refused to be the cause of your death as well.”
She smoothed her hand over the railing, noticing the wood was free of roughness. It had been sanded, stained, and treated until no chance of harm existed from stray splinters. If only there were a way to smooth life so easily.
Jazz turned to her slowly, towering over her, his expression still livid. If he’d come out here to cool down or to get a handle on the fury, he’d obviously failed.
Kenni jumped to move back, but she was too slow and a heartbeat later his fingers were locked around her upper arms as he glared down at her, the blue of his eyes so bright he was frightening.
“Jazz…”
“Why the fuck didn’t you contact me?” he repeated. “Why, Kenni? Why didn’t you let me know you were alive?”
His voice didn’t rise, it roughened, grated, the sound of it more intimidating than she wanted to admit.
“You don’t understand, Jazz,” she whispered. “I couldn’t…”
“You wouldn’t,” he snapped. “Ten years, Kenni. You could have called me, or Cord…”
“No…” She would have never called Cord, Deacon, or Sawyer. And she sure as hell wouldn’t have called her father.
“Why, damn you?” The guttural tone of his voice had her breath. “Tell me why!”
“Jazz, please don’t,” she whispered, shaking her head, trying to pull free of him.
“Tell me why, damn you. Why?” His voice rose just enough to assure her his anger was slipping its leash. Not that she feared he would hurt her, but she did fear what he might do if all that excellent control he possessed slipped free.
“Because you’re Kin. You’re Kin and I couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t go to Cord.” The cry tore free of her, ten years of hopeless, aching regret and loss, ten years of having everything and everyone she trusted taken away from her. Her throat was so tight she could barely speak, her heart racing with fear and pain and the overwhelming sense that she was no longer in control.
Releasing her, his fingers lifting one by one until he was no longer touching her, until he could step away from her as though he didn’t trust himself to be close, Jazz stared at her in disbelief for a moment before his expression hardened.
“Because you didn’t trust me.” His voice was harder, no longer filled with heat or even anger.
“I trusted you.” Damn, her hands were shaking. Pushing them into the pockets of her capris, she stared back at him, wary of the steely gleam in his gaze now. “But I trusted Kent, Jimmy, and Greg as well. They were family, cousins I’d known all my life, men my brothers sent to watch over Mom and me.”
The horror of that night was like a scar inside her soul. She could still feel the punch of that bullet as it tore into her shoulder, shredding her flesh and sending her to her knees as she tried to run. The smell of the smoke, the heat of the flames … the sight of her fragile, beautiful mother hanging limply, held upright only by Greg’s hands around her throat.
“Gunny saved me that night. He was Momma’s half brother, she said no one knew about him. He gave up his whole life trying to find out who kept sending my family to kill me.” She couldn’t help the bitter, agonized laugh that left her lips. “My family, Jazz. It was always family, always Kin sent to kill me. Men at my brothers’ command.” The sneer that echoed in her voice wasn’t intentional, but fitting. “And you think I should have called you? How was I to know you wouldn’t call Cord, no matter what I told you? Because I knew, just as I know now, how you trust him.”
“Cord isn’t behind this, Kenni,” he bit out, his arms going across his chest as she stared back at him in disbelief.
“And you would be willing to bet my life on that?” Stepping back from him, Kenni watched him carefully now, remembering where his loyalties lay.
He was Kin.
From an early age he’d been marked as part of the militia network. His mother had been Kin, as well as his uncle before they were killed just after Jazz’s fifth birthday. The foster system might have raised him, but the Kin had ensured he’d eventually ended up with a family willing to nurture him.
A family sworn to the Kin as well.
His ties to the group were too strong, his loyalties to them too deep.
“I wouldn’t bet your life on anything or anyone. Not then or now,” he snapped, disgust coloring his voice as well as his expression. “But I know the man Cord’s become just as I remember the man who grieved for his mother and his sister until we didn’t think he’d recover himself again. The twins were little better.”
Frustration tightened his face, gleamed in his eyes. He was torn, loyalty to the Kin and to friendship suddenly in conflict. And Kenni wasn’t certain which would win.
“The man Cord has become doesn’t matter,” she retorted, the ache of being unable to trust the men she had loved from the day of her birth like a dagger in her heart. “Even if he isn’t involved, the fact is that until he learned I wasn’t really Annie Mayes, there had been no threats against me. Now, within an hour of having been face-to-face with him, I was attacked again.” Turning away she stalked into the bedroom once again, rubbing at her arms to dispel the chill racing over them, the sense of rising danger heading her way. “I saw the driver. I can’t place his face.” Turning back to Jazz, she found it difficult to meet the intensity of those blue eyes. “But I’ve seen him before, a long time ago, and he’s Kin. And all Kin get their orders from Cord, Deacon, or Sawyer Maddox. My brothers.”
Even now, ten years later, that knowledge was like acid eating through her sou
l.
Her brothers. Only four men could give the order to harm her or her mother. Those four men were her father and three brothers. Only they had the power to give a kill order.
“I don’t care where the orders are supposed to come from, Kenni,” he ground out, the fury in his voice deepening it, giving it a primitive, harsh rasp. “But I’ll tell you right now neither your brothers nor your father was involved. I’d bet my life on it.”
Kenni swallowed tightly and clasped her hands together in front of her. Fear was curdling in her stomach, threatening to bring her dinner back up.
“Will you bet my life on it? Are you going to tell them?” Her voice was faint. It was all she could do to force the words past her lips.
God, he couldn’t do that. She hadn’t been able to prove the identity of the person giving the orders yet. But then it didn’t appear she was going to. Gunny had taught her how to survive, but the investigation process hadn’t been in the lesson plans.
“Your brothers were a mess for months,” he bit out, pushing his fingers through his hair furiously before glaring back at her. “Cord still gets drunk every year on the anniversary of his mother’s death and what he believed was yours. They suffered, Kenni. Guilty men don’t suffer like that.”
He was asking too much of her. Ten years of running, uncertain who to trust or where to run, and he wanted her to just let go of all that?
They wouldn’t care to kill Jazz as well, or Slade, Zack, or Jessie and her unborn baby.
“I can’t take the chance.” She refused to. “They’ve killed anyone willing to help me, Jazz. Friends Gunny trusted, then Gunny as well. All I had left was the identity he put in place for me in case of emergency. I can’t bear to lose anyone else I care about because of this.” Her voice hitched painfully, one hand reaching out to him beseechingly. “You have to let me go…”
“The hell I will.” He was on her before she realized what was happening, his hands gripping her arms again, jerking her to him. “You’re going nowhere, Kenni.”
“Don’t force me to go unprepared, Jazz, please.” The plea was rough, forcing itself past a throat tight with tears. “Don’t make me run like that.”
“Run!” Nose-to-nose, he drew his lips back into a snarl, his gaze burning into hers like laser fire. “I fucking dare you to run. The minute you do, I’ll call those brothers of yours. I’ll tell them everything I know, Kenni, and when they catch up with you there will be hell to pay for thinking, even for a second, they’d ever harm you.”
“And if they get themselves killed instead?” The cry was torn from her, the thought of her brothers hurt, or killed, more than she could bear. “Even if they’re not involved, Jazz, they’re in danger. Just as you, Jessie, Slade, and Zack are in danger if you try to help me.” She gripped his arms desperately. “Let me go!”
“When hell freezes over…”
CHAPTER 9
Kenni wasn’t prepared for the depth of heat and hunger Jazz unleashed on her. She wasn’t even certain what caused it.
When his lips moved over hers, though, they were wild. This wasn’t just erotic hunger. The feel of his need, the heavy groan torn from the very depths of his soul as he picked her up in his arms and moved for the bed, tore away the last fragile shield she’d kept around her heart.
She was defenseless now. All the aching hunger and need she’d trapped within her for the past years poured free. And every desperate emotion that had silently gathered inside her for this man was revealed.
She should have left Loudoun months ago. But she’d held on instead and eagerly awaited each glimpse she’d had of him. She may have pretended to herself that she avoided him, but Kenni knew now, very little had mattered other than keeping her identity hidden, and seeing Jazz.
And she had waited for this. For the stomach-clenching pleasure that swept over her as Jazz laid her back on his bed, his lips moving to her jaw, running down the sensitive line of her neck, and igniting the most exquisite sensations in their wake.
How was she supposed to live without this now? she cried out silently as Jazz leveled up, then quickly turned her to her stomach.
The gasp that parted her lips was one of excitement and surprise.
“Stay there,” he growled as she moved to turn back. “Right there, or I won’t have enough control to get my damned boots off, let alone my jeans.”
Kenni buried her face in the comforter, her fingers clenching in the blankets beside her head at the guttural sound of his voice.
“Damn, you have the prettiest fucking ass, Kenni,” he groaned as one boot could be heard thudding to the floor. “It has the sweetest little curve. Makes a man want to do nasty things to it.”
She trembled, a shudder of anticipation racing through her. She’d heard just how erotically intense Jazz could get. How his bedroom games could go for hours. How he could go for hours.
“Spread your legs for me,” he ordered, the graveled sound of his voice sweeping through her senses and laying any objections she might have to waste. “Slow and easy, baby.”
A whimper escaped her lips before she even realized she’d voiced it. She spread her legs for him, uncertain in this position, unable to see him or to gauge his intentions.
“Takes trust to just lie there, doesn’t it, Kenni?” he said before she felt his lips at her ankle like a sensual brand. “To just let me look. Or touch.”
A fingertip caressed the material running between her thighs, the sensation causing her to jerk at the exquisite pleasure as it lanced straight to her swollen clit.
“Your pussy’s so wet your panties are damp, isn’t it?” he groaned.
Kenni whimpered, forcing her hips to remain still rather than lifting to him and begging for more.
Callused, warm hands cupped her rear, squeezing gently as she felt his weight move to the mattress between her thighs. Then his hands smoothed over her hips, up her side as he came over her. She shivered as he brushed his lips against her ear and felt his larger body covering her, sheltering her.
Hungry male lips moved to her neck, her shoulder. The heat of his erection, iron-hard and throbbing, pressed against her rear.
Rolling to his side Jazz eased her to her back, his blue eyes mesmerizing as she gazed up at him.
“Ah, Kenni,” he crooned, his voice rough, possessive. “I waited far too long for this.”
His lips covered hers again, sipping, licking at her tongue, drawing her into chaos, causing her to forget to question what he had waited for.
Lifting her hands to his biceps, her nails bit into the hard, powerful muscles as he pushed her cami up her stomach to her breasts. His lips eased from hers as he pulled back, his eyes heavy-lidded, watching as she lifted her arms and allowed him to pull it free of her.
His hand lowered, cupped the weight of one breast and as she watched, his head dipped down, lips parting to cover one hard, aching tip.
Kenni cried out, arching closer to the feel of his lips suckling at first one hard tip then the other. Deep, heated pulls sent shards of sensation forking from the sensitive nub to the weeping center of her body before striking at the swollen kernel of her clit.
And his hands were never still.
Strong, callused fingers and palms stroked and caressed her body, fueling the flames burning through her senses.
“That’s it, baby,” he crooned as her fingers buried in the heavy length of his hair to hold him to her. “Show me what you like.”
Show him?
She could barely breathe, let alone guess at what she liked. Every touch he gave her, she liked.
She wanted more.
When he captured her nipple between his teeth and tormented it with his tongue, she lost her breath. Tremors of sensation rocked her body, tightening her muscles as she whimpered against the storm building inside her.
Above her, Jazz groaned as though in pain before releasing the swollen tip. His lips moved from her breasts, hot, hungry kisses spreading lower as he hooked his fingers in the band of
the boy shorts she wore and pushed them over her hips.
Desperation had her arching, aiding the removal of the last barrier between his flesh and hers. She needed to get closer to him. She had to still the pulsing, aching sensations tearing through her as they tightened in her vagina and around the sensitive flesh of her clitoris.
“Jazz.” Heat rushed over her as she felt his nails rasp along her side to her hip. His lips brushed against her abdomen, little flicks of his tongue driving her crazy with pinpoints of prickling pleasure as his other palm caressed her inner thigh, slowly parting her legs farther.
“Kenni, so sweet.” He nipped at the side of her hip then licked across the little burn.
“You’re killing me.” Whimpering, desperate to ease the aching need tormenting her, Kenni tried to arch closer to him again.
“I’ll make it all better, baby,” he promised as he eased between her thighs. “You just lie right there and I’ll make it all better.”
Kenni’s eyes jerked open as his shoulders settled between her thighs and his hands slid beneath her to cup the curves of her rear.
“Jazz!”
Heated, hungry lips settled on the sensitive folds between her thighs, his tongue laving the tortured bud he found there with exquisite, fiery licks.
Wicked blue eyes locked with hers, his gaze daring her, tempting her as his lips tightened on the little nubbin to suckle at it with gentle, tormenting draws.
Her hands clenched in the sheets beneath her, her breath locked in her throat. Small, desperate mewls escaped her lips, and pleasure rocked her senses.
She was certain the tightening spirals of pleasure were going to tear her apart. Every muscle strained toward the rapture growing closer, and just when she was certain she would explode with it he eased the pressure of his lips, pulling her back from the ecstatic edge.
“No. Don’t stop.” Her hands flew from the sheets to bury in his hair instead.
“But it gets better, sweetheart,” he assured her, his voice deeper, darker. “Let me show you how good it can be.”
Wicked. Those eyes were so wicked as he lifted her closer and then licked her.