Deadly Silence

by Rebecca Zanetti

  He slowly rotated his hand, and she saw stars. “Submit, Zara.”

  Oh, she fucking hated that word. But as the group of people came closer, panic won. “Fine. Let me up.”

  “No.”

  “I went to see Julie. Borrowed Brock’s car, but she wasn’t there. He says she’s on drugs.” The words rushed out of her so quickly she started to cough.

  Ryker stiffened, and his gaze darkened. He slowly removed his hand and helped her to sit up.

  Quivers consumed her abdomen. She pressed her thighs together to try to dispel the ache. Man, she needed an orgasm.

  Without another word, Ryker shut her door and moved around the front of the truck to slide into the driver’s seat. Rain had soaked his T-shirt and black hair. He started the engine and pulled out into the street.

  Zara swallowed. Her body rioted, brought to the brink and not fulfilled. She dared a look at Ryker.

  A muscle clenched in his jaw, his face impenetrable.

  He had no right. “What the hell, Ryker? I mean, my car wasn’t messed with, as you know. What’s your problem?” she asked.

  He paused at a streetlight and turned to look at her, his gaze thoughtful. “Not sure. A gut feeling that something is up, and it may have nothing to do with you. But you’ve been hit in the face, and then your car had problems.”

  “Jay hit me when he was trying to hit his wife, and he has no clue where she’s staying, so he couldn’t have messed with my car. Nobody had any reason to mess with my car, and your friends said it was probably just wear and tear.” She tried to rub her hands down her jeans, but her entire body felt oversensitized. “I don’t like your caveman act.” Well, her body did, but she wasn’t admitting that. Ever.

  The light changed to green, and he pressed on the accelerator. “Don’t you?”

  “No.” Forget the fact that her body was on fire.

  “Hmmm.”

  If he pulled the truck over and told her to get naked, she was very much afraid she’d do just that. It should frighten her how well he played her body, but there was something intriguing about it, although she did feel vulnerable. A woman would have to be able to trust completely to be with Ryker Jones forever. They drove the rest of the way to his place in silence. “I should go home,” she said.

  “I need to check in with Denver, and then I’ll take you home.”

  Good. She could take a cold shower, make out with the shower nozzle, and get some good sleep. “Fine.”

  His chuckle slid right under her skin in a lazy caress.

  They drove into the underground parking, and he parked the truck before dragging her across the seat. Her butt hit his hard thighs, and she nearly groaned out loud. “Want me to finish what we started?” he asked, his voice beyond rough.

  “What did we start?” she whispered, her body already swaying toward him. She grinned.

  He put his face an inch from hers. Raw sexuality and masculine power glowed in his odd-colored eyes. “You know what.”

  “I guess.” Her mind wanted to be mad and her heart wanted to be protected, but her body wanted relief. So her tone was teasing.

  “Good.” He stepped out of the vehicle, tugging her with him, and tossed her over his shoulder.

  Vulnerability attacked her along with humor. She hung over his shoulder, easily controlled by a strength so much more primitive than her own. Yet something about him—a sense that he was searching so hard for something, for a connection—called to her. She slid both hands down his back to grab his very fine ass. If she could trust him even when he was being over the top, what would he give back? Her gut told her he’d give everything and then some. “I’m still mad at you.”

  He all but jogged up the stairs, and before she knew it, they were back in his apartment. The world tilted, and she ended up on her feet for the briefest of seconds before he spun her around to face the wall. “Hey—”

  Firm hands molded to her breasts, and he pressed his erection against her butt. “Take off your pants,” he rasped in her ear.

  She shivered. “Are you playing?” Her voice trembled.

  He paused. “I’d never hurt you.”

  She knew that, but still, the words mattered. Her heart thumped hard, and feminine power flushed through her. “All right, badass. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  He chuckled against her ear and plucked her nipples. Erotic pain shot through her, and her knees weakened. “Pants. Off. Now.”

  She unzipped her jeans just as he tugged her shirt over her head, his hands rough.

  “Nice.” He caressed from her breasts down to her thighs and back, missing the important parts.

  She pushed back against his fully clothed body.

  He chuckled and tapped down to her core, easily parting her with his fingers.

  Her knees almost buckled from the excruciating pleasure. Her eyes closed, and she pushed against him. More. She needed so much more. “Ryker.”

  As she breathed his name, he took her down, flipping her onto her back. His hand cradled her head until she rested on the floor. The cool concrete chilled her back, and with her fully nude and him still dressed, vulnerability swelled inside her.

  He kissed her hard on the lips and then moved down, his mouth finding her core. For a few seconds, the entire world disappeared. Her pulse slowed as he held her open and exposed. To him. Red wound beneath his bronze skin when he spread her with his thumbs. “You’re mine, Zara.” Hunger glittered in his eyes.

  She couldn’t speak, but in that second, she wanted to be his. Completely.

  With a low hum, he leaned down and licked her, sending sensual flames ripping through her abdomen. She clamped a hand on the back of his neck. “Ryker, stop playing,” she moaned.

  He chuckled, and the vibrations nearly sent her over. “Man, you’re bossy.”

  “Look who’s talking.”

  “Fair enough.” Then he went at her. Tongue, fingers, even teeth—he worked her until she was a mumbling mass of needy nerves.

  Sweat dotted her body. Her thighs trembled. She was ready to beg.

  Then he twisted his fingers inside her and sucked her clit into his mouth.

  She detonated with a sharp cry. The orgasm cut through her like a blade and was followed by a series of deep waves. Finally, she came down with a small whimper. He was amazing and so dangerous. If she didn’t check herself, she’d be climbing right into his world, where he called all the shots.

  Maybe the mind-blowing orgasms would be worth it. Ryker had his own life, and it contained a bunch of secrets from what had to be a shady past. If he couldn’t trust her with his life, how the hell could she trust him? Of course, maybe they were both just starting to trust each other. If she showed him trust, which she had, maybe he’d do the same. “Why won’t you tell me about your past?” It was a question she’d never asked. Sure, she’d asked what his life had been like before they’d met, and he’d stonewalled her. At the time, she’d thought he just didn’t want to be close.

  Maybe it was something else.

  He pushed himself up, the lazy slumber in his eyes sharpening to an intense determination. “Why?”

  “I want to know you,” she whispered, trying to sit up.

  He planted a hand on her abdomen, effectively keeping her in place. Yet a warmth entered his eyes, and his cheek creased with what had to be pleasure. “My childhood sucked until I met Denver and Heath, and frankly, it sucked afterward as well. But then we were together, so it wasn’t so bad.”

  She’d figured. “And?”

  “The rest of it I need to clear with my brothers. I trust you, Zara, but it’s not only my story to tell.”

  “All right.” Maybe they could have a shot together. Her body relaxed into him.

  He stood, lifting her easily and making her feel beyond feminine. Even cherished. “Round two is in the bed.”

  Chapter

  15

  Ryker yanked on worn jeans and a T-shirt, then padded quietly across the bedroom to yank on his boots. The ra
iny snow had ebbed, and moonlight filtered through the blinds to caress the woman in his bed. In sleep, she was soft. Delicately soft and so feminine he wanted to put her somewhere safe forever.

  His chest ached, and he allowed determination to push his shoulders broader. While he couldn’t hide her away, he could stand between her and any threat. To do that, he needed her trust, and for once, he actually felt like he was getting it.

  For now, he had a job to do. He locked the bedroom and then the outer door to the apartment. He wasn’t worried that anybody could get by both him and his brothers to get to her, but the locks added assurances.

  He jogged down the flight of stairs to the offices. Long strides took him to Denver’s office, where Denver and Heath already waited. “Quick trip, huh? How was Utah earlier today?” he asked Heath, wanting to know before they started.

  “Got some info but nothing concrete,” Heath said, making a get-to-it motion with his hand.

  Ryker nodded. “Oh. Then what the hell are we doing here right now? Why the late-night text?” he asked, following the script they’d come up with earlier.

  “I found Isobel Madison,” Denver said. “You’re not gonna believe where she is.”

  “Where?” Heath asked, rolling his neck, his body one tense line as he played his part.

  “Read this,” Denver said, making a production of shoving a stack of papers across the desk.

  Ryker crumpled a paper and kept silent for several beats, his gaze on Denver as he pretended to read. “Shit.”

  Heath joined in. “Yep. So what now?”

  “Tomorrow we go and talk to her,” Ryker said, nosily pushing papers back toward Denver. “It’s quite the coincidence that she’s so close.”

  Heath grunted. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “What about the kid?” Denver asked.

  Ryker waited and then sighed. “Let’s find the woman and figure out who she is. Then I’ll know better how to deal with Greg. The kid is lost, and I’d like to help him if possible.”

  Heath lifted an eyebrow.

  Ryker shrugged. He would like to help Greg, so why not say so as the kid listened in? The lost look in the kid’s dangerous and way-too-old eyes had haunted him since their only meeting. “For now, I have to get some shut-eye. How about we meet at eight in the morning and head out?”

  “Copy that.” Heath groaned as he shoved from the chair. “Has anybody ordered furniture for the apartments upstairs?”

  “No,” Denver said shortly, tapping keys. “Security measures are in place here. We’re well protected.”

  Like hell they were. Greg had already gotten in once to plant all the bugs. “That’s good to know,” Ryker said.

  Denver stood and quietly opened his bottom desk drawer. He reached in and tossed Glocks to both men. Ryker shoved his gun against the back of his waist, much preferring the knife already in his boot. “Night, guys.” He loped through the offices and up the stairs to his apartment, where he opened and shut the door without going inside.

  Then he turned and made his way back down to the offices without making a sound this time.

  He gave a head jerk to Denver, who had already stationed himself near the reception area. Heath covered the back, and Ryker set up dead center and out of sight.

  Then they waited.

  The night ticked on, and the skies outside decided to open up again. Rain slashed down, but if the weather turned as it was predicted to, they might have more snow by morning.

  Ryker remained in a crouch against the long row of file cabinets in the center of the office.

  The air shifted. Not enough for most people to notice, but something—or rather someone—hovered near. He gave a hand signal to Denver, who nodded. Heath was already on alert.

  Denver held up a small box that had gone dark.

  The damn kid had managed to turn off the security system without giving an indication. He had to be close.

  No sound. As hard as Ryker tried, he couldn’t make out a sound that shouldn’t be there. So he closed his eyes and concentrated. Denver’s heartbeat…then Heath’s echoed through his mind.

  Should he be able to hear them? Shit no. But he could. He’d accepted the oddity years ago, and once he had, he’d gotten accustomed to using it.

  Another heartbeat. Strong and sure and damn steady.

  He gestured to his brothers again, waiting for their nods. They both had odd talents, including the bizarre hearing abilities.

  The back door slowly slid open.

  The kid was good. He didn’t make a tick of sound. He whipped inside and waited.

  Ryker forced himself to breathe evenly and not hold his breath.

  The kid moved as silent as death across the room and past a waiting Heath, heading straight for Denver’s office. Heath waited until the kid was between the office and Ryker before flipping on the lights. Greg whirled around, his knife already out.

  Ryker stood, his hands held out. “No need for weapons.”

  The kid eyed him, his body relaxed and yet in a fighting stance. No fear showed on his tough face while his gaze seemed to track all three of them. “You found the bug.”

  “Bugs,” Denver corrected, pushing away from the reception area.

  Ryker kept a line on the knife Greg hadn’t put down. “This is Denver, and that’s Heath. They’re my brothers.”

  At the word, the kid visibly blanched before going stone-cold again.

  Brothers.

  Ryker’s heart thumped for the lost kid. His pain was palpable in the wide room, yet he stood so bravely and faced the three of them.

  Able to read minds, Heath caught the look. “You have family, kid?”

  “No,” Greg said, his free hand folding into a fist. He reminded Ryker of Heath as a child…so scared and angry and willing to fight.

  Heath grimaced. “I have a rare talent of knowing when somebody is lying their ass off to me. Just so you know.”

  Greg backed away, knife out, keeping all three of them in his sights. He sidled to the left—toward the stairs, which led up to the apartments and down to the parking garage.

  “Stop moving. I don’t want to take you down, but if you go for the stairs, I will,” Ryker said calmly, planning how to do it without bruising Greg. No way was he going to harm Greg.

  Greg eyed him and then stopped moving. “Where’s Isobel Madison?” His voice shook. “I have to find her.”

  “Tit for tat,” Denver said, taking a couple of steps toward Greg, awareness in his gaze. “Who is Isobel Madison?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Greg lowered the knife but kept a firm hold on the handle.

  “Smart move,” Heath said, his body still on alert. “Now we can talk. Who is she?”

  Greg shook his head. “I just want her location, and I’ll go. She’s none of your business.” A thread of vulnerability wound through his tone.

  “Now, that’s where you’re wrong,” Ryker said. There had to be a way to get through to this desperate child. “You’re not going anywhere, so you might as well work with us.”

  The kid’s shoulders rolled, and he drew out a small box from his right pocket. “I brought insurance.”

  Ah hell. Ryker squinted, horror spiking through him. “What the fuck?”

  The kid turned the box around, and a green light flickered. “Place is wired.”

  Heath coughed, fury darkening his face. “You’re shitting me.”

  “Nope. Give me the intel on Madison, and I’ll leave this nice little box on the front curb. It’ll only take ten minutes to defuse the bomb. I promise.” Greg retreated until his back was against the wall.

  The kid had planted a bomb. Anger swept through Ryker on the heels of panic. His lungs seized. He’d brought Zara right into danger. Locks on the doors wouldn’t save her from an explosion. His hands started to shake, and temper roared in to coat his vision.

  Greg turned and eyed him. “I doubt you want the pretty lady sleeping upstairs to end up in pieces. She will if you don’t do
what I say.”

  Ryker snarled and took a step toward Greg, his back going rigid. “You can threaten me all you want, but you mess with my woman, and I’ll rip your head off.”

  Greg blinked. “I really don’t want to hurt her.”

  Truth. Definitely the truth. Ryker forced himself into a calm state before he drove the kid to push the button. “Then you probably shouldn’t have planted a bomb that’ll take down where she’s sleeping. Let’s defuse it and now.”

  “That’s up to you.” Greg’s jaw visibly hardened, his emotions all over the board and difficult to read. “You’re in perfect control, and it’s up to you if she lives or dies.”

  Something wasn’t quite right in the statement, but Ryker couldn’t get a bead on Greg. Was he lying? If so, he was trained to do so.

  Heath moved to make sure they all but surrounded the threat. “I did not see this coming.” He sounded more bemused than angry, as if surprised that anybody could surprise him, but it was an act. Ryker knew his brother, and he was livid. “You’re impressive, kid.”

  “Thanks. Do you want to die?” Greg asked, his voice calm, but raw desperation swirled in his eyes. He had a good hold on the box.

  “How about we all live.” Ryker ran through possible scenarios in his head, the need to go cover Zara nearly overwhelming him. Heat coated his throat and made it hard to breathe.

  Greg shook his head wildly. “You can’t get to me before I push the button.”

  Ryker kept his hands at his sides. “Do you want to die?”

  “I don’t know.” Greg looked down at the trigger. “I mean, I was supposed to die, you know? But I didn’t, and now I’m here, and I just want to go back home. But there is no home, so maybe dying is the option.”

  Well, fuck. Definitely not what Ryker wanted to hear. “I can get you home.”

  “No.” So much pain sizzled in Greg’s brown eyes that Ryker’s chest hurt. “My home no longer exists.”

  “Then why Isobel?” Ryker asked, trying to slide forward to get that box. “Did she study you?”

  Greg’s head reared back. “Why do you ask that?”

  Holy land mine. “She’s a doctor, right?” Ryker murmured, angling a little bit more. If he could just reach the boy before he pushed the button, he could end the threat to Zara.