by Joni Hahn
A moment of surprise passed before she realized he liked what he saw. Good. She’d wanted him mad with longing by the end of the evening.
With a demure smile, she skimmed her palms up his muscled chest. “Like what?”
God, he smelled good. Like Riordan.
His hand waved up and down her form. “Like this. Damn, Meeks…” Taking a deep breath, he softened his voice to a near whisper. “You’re breathtaking. I can’t keep my eyes off of you.”
Her heart soared as she shared a smile with him. Wrapping an arm around his neck, she kissed him with all of the desire running rampant inside of her. Sitting in the same room, but unable to touch him, had proven to be near torture. She needed him now, on a level that frightened, yet excited her.
Skimming his hands up her back, his heat warmed her chilled skin. Their heavy breathing echoed in the empty room, the rustle of clothing loud to her ears.
Breaking away, she took his palm and pressed it against her exposed thigh. “Make love to me, Riordan.” She guided it under her dress to her bare backside in a thong.
Curse words rolled off his tongue with relish. “What the hell, Meeks? He hasn’t touched you, has he?”
She placed small, butterfly kisses along his neck. “No, but I wish you would. I wore it for you.”
He kneaded her backside with dizzying skill, his breath in her hair. “Damn, Meeks, you’re killing me.”
Pulling away, she shimmied out of her red thong and let it drop to the floor. Stepping out of it, she picked it up, opened his jacket and stuffed it inside his breast pocket. His pale eyes burned with fire.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m very serious.” She stroked him over the fly of his trousers.
Backing her against the wall, he trailed his palm over her bare thigh peeking through the slit in her dress. His eyes swirled as she freed him, lingering on his bare hardness as he swept aside the silky, red fabric.
“You’re mine, Natalie.” He lifted her into his arms.
“Yes.” She stated it without question.
He thrust into her, over and over, reclaiming her as his own. She’d needed this after the day away from him. Needed to know her warrior still protected her, still wanted her.
Still loved her.
Without words.
Ecstasy beckoned, calling her, pulling her toward it. She cried out, just as he shuddered, her name on his lips.
He held her there, his forehead against the wall beside her head. “I’m so weak around you.”
A soft laugh escaped her. “I like you that way.”
Lowering her with careful movements, Riordan righted her dress before taking care of himself. She worked to look presentable again when a pounding came at the door. Riordan put her behind him.
“Natalie. Saint.”
Rose.
Riordan opened the door. Rose filled the doorway, Hope beside him.
“Your father is calling you on stage, Natalie,” she said. “Hurry.”
Checking her lipstick in the mirror, Natalie rushed to the door.
Riordan stopped her there. “Baby, as soon as you’re done,
I’ll come get you.”
Her eyes searched his concerned gaze. “But, I thought-”
“Screw Mitchell’s plan. Warner’s up to something. If I don’t get you away from him, we’re going to have a murder on our hands.”
Riordan watched Natalie climb the stage beside her father, pride swelling his chest. Exquisite seemed such an inadequate word for the way she looked tonight, her classic elegance shining through the rebel cuff on her arm, the dramatic makeup on her face. Her copper hair shown like satin in the overhead lights, the thick waves soft and rich over her shoulders.
Every man in the room watched the sway of her hips with interest, the generous swell of her breasts with envy.
He grinned to himself. The hell of it was, her intelligence and wit drew him more than her physical beauty.
Well, that and the sex. She had one very healthy appetite.
“Is that a smile of pride on your face?” Hope grinned up at him.
He nodded. “Yes. That is one amazing woman up there.”
“Well, at least you’re smiling.” Hope let out a dejected sigh. “Your partner, Rose, acts like his face is constructed of plaster.” She waved her hands horizontally, in front of her. “No smiling or laughing aloud.”
Riordan laughed. “He’s just cranky because he couldn’t wear his rodeo buckle with his tux.”
Hope let out a half laugh. “He’s a cowboy?”
“Used to be – before this life.” Riordan gave her a questioning frown. “Why? Interested?”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “I’ve had more conversation with a light post.”
“He takes his job seriously. You should catch him on mechanical bull night. He’s the life of the party.”
“No, thanks. Think I’ll pass.” Raising up on her toes, she looked around the room. “Where did Daddy go? I didn’t think he wanted to associate with anyone here.”
Dan Meeks spoke for a good twenty minutes, his vow to stop corruption in government eliciting a chuckle from both him and Hope. At least he’d worked humor into his speech.
“I’d like to call John Warner on stage.”
Amongst mild applause, Warner buttoned his jacket as he climbed the stairs with hurried steps. Stopping beside Natalie, he placed a possessive hand at her back.
Riordan hoped the scent of their sex still lingered on her skin.
Dan Meeks clapped Warner on the shoulder. “This week, John proved he was serious about uniting our country and ending corruption in government.” Leaning forward, Meeks spoke against the microphone. “He donated one hundred thousand dollars to my campaign.”
Thunderous applause broke out amid catcalls and whistles. How the hell did Warner make that kind of donation when he had no money?
Meeks waved down the applause. “He also did me the honor of asking for Natalie’s hand in marriage. I said yes.”
Riordan’s heart stopped. His gaze collided with Natalie’s round, worried eyes. The color drained from her face, her dark lipstick making her appear other worldly.
The crowd rose to its feet with renewed clapping. Grabbing her father’s sleeve, she tried to turn him to face her. He held fast.
She turned to Warner who leaned down to listen but made no response. Her panicked gaze flew to Riordan.
I’m coming, baby.
“Find your father, Hope.” He made his way through the standing crowd.
Turning to leave the stage, Natalie stopped short when Warner caught her arm.
Her shaky voice carried over the microphone. “I’m not marrying you, John. I never agreed to this.”
Like someone had flipped a switch on a fan, the applause slowly died. Dan Meeks took her elbow. “Kitten, we can discuss this later.”
Oh no, you don’t, you sonovabitch. Riordan hurried his steps.
“No.” She turned wild eyes on her father. “There’s nothing to discuss. I’m not marrying him.”
With a loud, ferocious growl, Warner grabbed Dan Meeks from behind. Meeks’ painful cry crescendoed to deafening heights as plumes of smoke rose from his shoulders. His body shook with violent tremors before his shoulders burst into flames.
Screaming erupted in the room as people ran to the exits. “Run, Natalie,” Riordan cried when he reached the floor below the stage.
She pummeled Warner on the back, her cries broken in the screams and crackling flames.
Shit, he had to get her away from him.
Shoving his hands in front of him, Riordan concentrated on Warner’s iron cuffs visible below his raised sleeves. A ripple washed over Riordan as he pulled Warner toward him, the microphone flying past his head and crashing in the distance. Sliding across the stage, Warner’s surprised gaze melded with Riordan’s as he dug in his heels.
Yeah, I’ve got toys of my own, you sick bastard.
With an evil grin, Warner’s arm shot
out and grabbed Natalie. Dan Meeks dropped to the stage in an unconscious heap. Curls of smoke billowed from Warner’s cuffs, blinding Riordan. The room fell into dark chaos.
“Saint.” Mitchell spoke over his armband. “He took her back stage. Make your way to the parking garage. Rose will meet you there. Naylor will take the front. I’m going to stay here and take care of Dan Meeks.”
“Got it.” He ran into a dozen or more people as he tried to find his way through the smoke. The fire alarms went off, activating the sprinkler system. Cold water rained down, soaking him.
Self-admonishment hammered him as he raced to find a door. He should’ve never left her side. He should’ve kept her with him.
Finding an open set of double doors, he ran into the hallway, the smoke billowing over him like evil shadows. Checking his armband, there was no sign of her on the GPS.
Shit.
Rushing down the hall, he ran through a maze of doors and hallways until he found the parking garage. Rose met him at the door.
“She must’ve ditched her bracelet or Warner turned off the GPS,” Riordan said. “I haven’t been able to pick her up.”
“Me either. They didn’t come out this way.”
A black, Cadillac Escalade screamed around the corner, its headlights bathing the garage in a sudden glow. It raced toward them at top speed.
Standing in its path, Riordan held out his hands to repel the vehicle. Hope hung out of the driver’s window.
“Riordan.”
Lowering his hands, he ran to her window when she stopped beside him.
“Jump in. Dad’s on his tail.”
Running around the SUV, he jumped in beside her, Rose in the back.
Tires squealing, Hope raced out of the garage and onto Broadway. She pointed at the navigation screen. “This is Dad. He was waiting in the car with Ringo and Clem when Warner ran out with her. We’re using a beta satellite project that scans her DNA so we can track her.” She grinned at Riordan. “She can’t hide from us.”
“DNA tracking?” Rose’s voice held an incredulous tone. “How?
Hope stared at him in the rearview mirror. “Yes. We’ve been working on it for years. I lifted Natalie’s DNA from the cuff on her arm. My father always knows my whereabouts.”
“That could suck on a date.” Rose looked out the window.
Hope gasped as she ran a red light. “Did he just make a funny, Riordan?”
Naylor spoke over Riordan’s armband, drawing his attention. “Saint, front and the surrounding blocks are clear.”
“Roger that, Naylor.” Shrugging out of his jacket, Riordan rolled up his sleeves to expose his armbands. “We’ve got him on Powers’ private navigation system. He’s headed east on C Street.”
“I’m there. Give me five.” Naylor signed off.
Watching the road, Hope glanced over at him for a minute. “Did you say Naylor? As in Robert Naylor?”
“Dar is his son. He works for D.I.R.E.”
She pointed in the air as if connecting the dots. “So you work with the son of the man, or really, the man that sent you to Mongolia?”
“I used to work for him, Hope. Dar knew nothing about sending me away until it had already happened.”
Giving him a leery gaze, she said, “Are you sure we can trust him?”
Trust. His Achilles heel. Yet, he had no problem defending Dar.
“Yes. He’s part of my team.” Riordan held up his arms. “Rose is up next.”
Her eyes went to the rearview mirror before bouncing back to the road.
“What are those?” Her eyes swirled with interest.
Powers’ voice came over the internal speakers with no telephone system. He spoke in low whispers. “Hope, did you find Riordan?”
“I’m here, Powers.”
“He stopped at the construction site of the new Warner building. They disappeared behind some temporary plywood walls. We followed them inside but didn’t want to get too close. It looks like he’s taking her up to the top floor in a cage elevator.”
Riordan shared an incredulous look with Rose. Damn, his father had done that for Dan Meeks’ daughter?
“Don’t put yourselves in danger, Powers. We’re almost there.” Softening his tone, he added, “And thanks. I owe you.”
“We’re here if you need us. Out.”
The high rise appeared in the near distance, a shell of concrete floors and steel beams. A lighted crane sat on top, an aerial beacon flashing intermittently. Looking up, out of the windshield, Riordan counted twenty floors, including the roof. Clamp lights lit every floor, some with frosted plastic walls, others open through to the opposite side.
Unbuttoning his shirt, Riordan shrugged out of it and threw it on the floor. Kicking off his shoes, he pulled off his socks.
“Oh my-“ Hope swallowed hard as she came to a stop. “Oh, Riordan...”
Ignoring her response to his scars, he looked back at Rose. “I’m climbing up the back wall beams.”
“Climbing?” Her voice echoed in alarm as she pulled to the curb and cut her lights.
“Rose, when Naylor arrives, have him take out the elevator. You wait it out in the stairwell.”
He gave a short nod.
Riordan turned to his sister. “Hope, you need to get your father and get out of here. We’ve got this.”
“Hold up.” She held up a hand as if asking for patience. “I’m still way back at climbing.”
Opening the door, Riordan said, “Rose, you fill her in. I need to go get my girl.”
Natalie tried to hold up her head. Sweat beaded on her forehead and cheeks before dripping to the concrete at her bare feet. Carpenter nails and sawdust littered the ground around her, a plywood table and tools close by. Lethargy blanketed her in a scalding cocoon, John’s hands heating her to near unconsciousness.
He held her in front of him, facing the stairwell. Waiting. Watching.
For Riordan.
There was no doubt in her mind that he would come. He was her warrior, her protector, self-assigned to keep her safe.
He had to be fighting an army of self-hatred right now, knowing he’d allowed her to get away, knowing John had gotten the upper hand.
The fault remained on her. She’d refused to run when he told her. Now, she’d forced him into this confrontation with John. Forced him to risk his life for her.
Behind them, plastic sheets rippled and bowed as the night breeze tried to rush through. He’d chosen a small space sectioned off on the top floor, the temporary walls confining his intense heat. Her dress was soaked through, her hair a matted curtain of sweat around her face. Her leg throbbed in rhythm with her heart.
John kissed her neck, his lips cool against her flushed skin. She gritted her teeth against his trespass, wanting to strike out.
She had strength to do no more than flinch.
“I had planned to kill your boyfriend tonight, Natalie, but it looks like he’s not going to show.”
Natalie knew better. “How could you do this, John? I don’t understand.”
“What? Killing?” His laugh held a patronizing tone. “After you kill once, it comes rather easy.”
Her gasp caught on her runaway heart. John had killed and would kill again. They weren’t just dealing with a maniac. John was a murderer. This changed everything.
“You’ve killed before?”
His fingers skimmed along the moist flesh of her shoulder. Gooseflesh popped up on her skin, his touch cool against the excruciating heat of her body.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know…”
“Know wh-?” Shock reverberated through her, leaving her trembling in his furnace of death. No. God, no. Not-
“Paul.” His lips brushed her earlobe.
Natalie’s knees buckled. Tears blended with her sweat to drop on the floor. He’d killed Paul. His own brother.
John picked her up by the shoulders, his hands hot, scorching against her bare skin. “I re-wired the suit to short circuit when he powered
it up. All I had to do was suggest he try it under his tuxedo. Brilliant, don’t you think? Having it go off at Mills’ fundraiser?”
Hard sobs racked her frame as she thought about Paul. John had always bullied him in one way or another. The abuse had been at the heart of Paul’s counseling issues. Only in the few months prior to his death had Paul shown signs of overcoming it.
Despite the abuse, Paul had trusted his brother. Loved him. He’d tried to mend the tattered bond between them.
All the while, John had been planning his murder.
“Why?” Her voice sounded just above a whisper.
“Why?” His tone sounded incredulous. “Paul always stood in my way, whether it was new technology ideas, plans for the company or… you, Natalie.” He inhaled against her neck. “I took him out of the picture. Just like I plan to take out St. James.”
He growled under his breath. “I’d hoped to do so tonight but obviously, you don’t mean as much to him as I thought.”
“Guess again, Warner…”
Gasping, her heart lurched, relief rushing through her like white-water rapids. John whipped around, dragging her limp body like a ragdoll. She lifted her head, her hair hanging in her face.
Riordan. He stood before them barefoot and bare-chested, his armbands gleaming in the sketchy lighting. Sweat glistened on his powerful, scarred chest, his hair free of its tail.
“That woman is my life, Warner. My life was taken from me once. It won’t happen again.”
“How did you get up here?” John’s voice held a note of panic as he searched the area around them with wild eyes.
A thin slice split the plastic against the back wall. He’d cut through the barrier.
“Come here baby.”
Riordan held up his hand, palm out. The webbed cuff on her bicep wobbled against her heated skin. They shared a smile when her arm lifted toward him.
John locked his arms around her. “No. Not until I get what’s mine.”
With a frightening scowl, Riordan lifted his other hand. A ripple washed over her, heavy and warped, before she and John stumbled toward him. John growled as he fought it, pulling away, fighting against it.