“Did I upset him?”
“Nothing I’ve seen yet does. It’s just, in this world …”
You don’t ask questions, were the unspoken thoughts.
If it meant protecting the men protecting her, she would do anything. “Do you think Teddie’s safer with Kell?”
“I think she’s happier with Kell,” he asserted. “Protection was an added benefit. But love does equal protection, right?”
“I’d never thought about it like that,” she mused.
“Maybe you should.”
*
There was a double bed in the room Reid had left their bags in. He stripped his shirt and jeans and climbed into bed in boxer briefs while she stood there. She’d been half dead on her feet, but at the sight of Reid stripped down, something fluttered inside her belly, and no, they weren’t done. Not by a long shot.
Now she had to convince him of that.
“Come on, Grier—you need to sleep.” He pointed to the space on the other side of him. She wanted to know exactly why he was inviting her into his bed when there was no seduction apparent.
And you’re disappointed about that. “Aren’t there other bedrooms on this floor?”
“Yes. But I’m not letting you out of my sight.” He rolled onto his side. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”
She nodded, took her jeans off and slid into the bed next to him. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling until she finally said, “What if I don’t want you to be?”
There was a long pause and she thought he might be asleep. But then he said, “It’s not me—that’s New Orleans speaking.”
“I know what it is, Reid. It’s you. I don’t sleep with people I’m working with. At least I never did.”
He turned to and was on top of her in seconds, his speed and strength surprising her. “Is that why you’re retiring? You think you compromised that investigation?”
Shit. There was no way to escape his gaze. She didn’t even bother trying. “I did compromise it.”
“How? By nearly getting yourself killed? I compromised you, Grier. And it had nothing to do with the fact that we slept together.”
She wished she could believe that as staunchly as he seemed to. “I tried to tell myself that.” But her conscience had ached for a full year and a half. And even though she knew what she needed to do, it had taken her months to put in her resignation.
Leaving a job she’d fought to get, a job she loved, broke her heart. But she had to stay true to herself. “You were a suspect. You and Kell had my witness.”
“To keep her safe.”
“I could’ve put you behind bars for obstruction. Should’ve.”
“The only reason you didn’t was because you knew it wouldn’t do you any good. I wouldn’t break and tell you anything. You knew everything I did was for Teddie’s good.”
“And suppose I’d been wrong?”
“You weren’t.”
“Reid, I’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“I’m sure. Maybe too much.” He pushed off her, leaned back on his knees, straddling her prone body.
“Reid, you can’t feel guilty about this.”
“Yeah, okay,” he muttered. “You’re not getting laid.”
“That’s supposed to be the girl’s line.”
“So not getting laid,” he said darkly.
She reached up and pulled him back down by his shoulders. He offered little resistance but he was upset.
“I have to make my own decisions about this,” she said.
“You do too much good in your job. Did you weigh in that factor? Think about all the people you could keep helping.” Reid paused. “I get the morality aspect. I really do. But you’ve got to find your line, draw it where it does the most good and then not step over it.”
She wound her fingers through his hair. “Make love to me.”
“If I do, that doesn’t mean I condone your retirement.”
“Noted.”
“This whole thing’s going to cost you.”
“It always does,” she murmurs. “This time, I don’t think I’ll mind it at all.”
“Whether you do or not, I’m taking that choice away from you,” he warned.
She’d always been uninhibited in bed, but before Reid, she’d never had a partner who was willing to be equally adventurous or as domineering as he was. Maybe the other men she’d been with thought she wouldn’t like it or tolerate it. Maybe they would’ve been right, but Reid wasn’t giving her that choice.
I’m taking your choice away from you.
And that appeared to be exactly what she needed. Before she could do anything, he’d taken her wrists and held them down against her sides. His body was in between her legs, her thighs splayed for him.
“I have limits. Boundaries.”
“Too many of them,” he told her.
“And you have none.”
“So we need to balance one another out. I’ll start.” With that, he lifted her up and kicked open the balcony door. It was gated with high, tight wrought iron that you could only see over if you were standing.
With one foot, he turned the single chair out there around so it faced inside the room and placed her there. And then he began to strip off her clothes.
“Reid, we’re outside.”
“Yes.”
“We can’t—”
“We’ve got to get that word out of your vocabulary, Grier. You gotta live a little, chère.”
His drawl was deep, like Gunner’s. “You grew up here.”
He nodded. He’d brought her back to the one place that might actually have caused him the most pain in his entire life. For her.
The least she could do was surrender. “I want to be as brave as you are.”
“You’re already there, Grier. Beyond there.”
She stripped her T-shirt off and threw it to the side. He grinned, picked it back up and took her wrist in his hand. Held it down and she watched him rope the shirt around it and the chair until she was bound tightly. And then he stripped off his own shirt and did the same to the other hand and she watched—simply watched—as he made her helpless against him.
No one could see them, not with the way the balcony was built, but she could hear the sounds below them. She felt completely exposed up there, as Reid tied her hands to the big, cushioned chair, the humidity adding to the heat already rising between them.
She couldn’t move—her wrists tied by her shirt and his, and he was between her legs, forcing her thighs to splay around him.
His fingers tweaked her nipples. They were already hard but his touch made her melt and he knew it. Her body jerked and shuddered when he mouthed each one, sucking, biting, tugging.
“Reid …” Her voice sounded so needy. Music floated over them from the bar next door—sexy, raunchy music that seemed to be playing just for them.
He slid her shorts down, his head still buried against her breasts. She was completely naked, forced open for him. And she was so wet because of it—from him, for him.
“You’re mine, Grier. You don’t want to be. You’ve fought against it for a long time. But it’s the end of the line. You’re mine. I’ll prove it to you.”
He knelt between her spread legs and buried his face in her sex, his tongue laving her. She cried out, her voice mingling in with the music drifting out of the bar, and she wouldn’t have cared if everyone heard her.
Her body relaxed, melted as he found her most sensitive areas and worked them, pleasure spearing her. She was so full of want, her nerves frayed and ready to give in to anything Reid gave her. She trusted him, enough to lose herself in the moment, the familiar sensations of orgasm gathering in her belly.
The first climax sizzled through her—the second right on its heels, more of a jagged release that stole her breath and made her lower body jackknife, arching against Reid’s mouth and the bindings, her blood thrumming with the power and the novelty of being outside and so wanton at the same time.
&n
bsp; He wasn’t done, wouldn’t be so until he’d had his fill. And judging by the look in his eyes, that wasn’t happening anytime soon.
*
Reid needed to come, wanted to be inside of her when he did so. He’d waited while she’d healed, and while he didn’t want to hurt her, he couldn’t hold out any longer.
He untied her wrists, rubbed them, kissed them as her head lolled back in the chair, her mouth curved in a smile. He leaned forward and picked her up.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzled his cheek. Kissed him along his earlobe, biting gently.
“Don’t tease.”
“Not teasing. Want more,” she told him, her eyes shining.
“You’ll get it.”
He put her on the bed, then rolled her to her stomach. He knelt behind her, then pulled her hips up so she was on her hands and knees. “Does this hurt?”
“No.”
Her sex was still wet and hot, and he entered her slowly, filling her for the first time in a year. He wanted to savor it, make it last.
“Has there been anyone but me?” he asked. “Tell the truth, Grier.”
“No. No one.”
“For me either,” he said before he entered her. She was wet and hot and still so tight and he groaned as he tried to go slowly.
He wasn’t lying—it had been him and his hand for a year, and the frustration finally set free hummed through his body like a tornado threatening to take out everything in its path. There was no way to stop it—and thankfully, Grier was on board. Hanging on to the sheets for dear life as he drove inside of her deeply, his body trembling from trying to draw it out.
Grier was crying out his name, over and over, and he loved that. Loved her. Had the balls to admit it to himself but not to her. Not yet.
He put a hand on her lower back and another on her hip as she groaned, “More,” against the pillow.
More. Yeah, he could do that.
She contracted around him, stilled and he couldn’t hold out any longer, let himself come with a hard buck against her, his mouth nuzzling her neck. And Grier was still holding onto him for dear life.
And it was better than any goddamned fantasy he’d ever had about her. Better than anything.
Chapter Twelve
Reid was too restless to sleep. He waited until Grier was soundly so, then dragged himself to the bathroom, showered and pulled on a pair of shorts. The fan spun lazily overhead, but the heat and humidity always got to him. Made him feel like a prowling lion, and even though he knew Gunner kept the place secure, he needed to do his own security sweep.
He padded down the stairs, his gun at his side. When he got to the back room where all the tattoo equipment was housed, he heard a door opening. Three in the morning. The bar was winding down, the music off, and it was easy to hear movement inside the front room.
A shadow passed by and Reid recognized the flash of Gunner’s hair. There was a small sound, like someone tripping and then there was dead silence.
He moved around the corner and found Gunner holding a gun to a man’s head.
Keegan’s head.
Reid’s shoulders slumped in relief and he lowered his weapon. “Dude, he’s with me.”
“First of all, you shouldn’t sneak up on a man holding a gun to another man’s head. And second, I can’t be expected to keep track of all the shit you do,” Gunner drawled. He put the weapon down and stuck out his hand. “Gunner.”
Keegan nodded warily. “I think I need a drink.”
“And now I’m a bartender.”
“Actually, I am,” Keegan said, and moved toward the small stocked bar Gunner always had set up in the shop for after hours. He poured himself a whiskey and downed the shot, then handed one to all of them.
His hand shook and Reid knew it wasn’t just from what had happened with Gunner. He turned to Reid and said, “I want out. I left two days ago. Haven’t answered any of their calls. I hear there’s a bounty on my head.”
“Keegan, fuck,” Reid said as Gunner pulled a seat up and simply listened to their conversation.
Keegan shrugged. “It was time. Besides, after what I did, they were going to get really suspicious. More than they were. I don’t want shit to come down on your head.”
“What did you do?”
“Got you some intel you’d only be able to get if you hung around getting your head bashed in repeatedly. To be fair, I know you like that sometimes.” Keegan reached inside his jacket and handed him a file. Reid opened it to find pictures and credit card and banking info of three men.
“These are the ones in charge?”
“Yeah. The others took payouts to pretend they were. As far as the authorities know, they’re the men to track.”
“How much money is worth being followed for the rest of your life?”
Keegan smiled the smile of someone who truly knew the answer. “Nothing’s worth it.”
“Keegan, this is enough to keep the authorities off our backs, and we’ve got the right men to deal with.”
“Now you have to figure out what you’re going to do with it.”
“I’m going to let Dylan make that call. I’m a little too close to all of this,” Reid admitted, then turned to Gunner. “Can you help me make Keegan disappear?”
“What’s this, Gunner’s home for WITSEC runaways?”
“You’re good at it.”
“Flattery gets you shit,” Gunner told him.
“You owe me,” Reid pointed out.
“Don’t use my own karma against me,” Gunner warned, then turned to Keegan. “We’ve got to get rid of that jacket.”
Keegan slipped it off and pulled his T-shirt over his head as he said, “Forget the jacket. What are we going to do about this?”
The OA symbol took up most of his back.
Gunner just smiled. “I’ve got a few suggestions I think will work just fine.”
The delicious smells woke her from a sound sleep. Fresh beignets and coffee. Heaven. She was sore in the right places this time, and although she didn’t like waking to an empty bed, she could forgive it for this.
“You’re going to want more, aren’t you?” Reid said from the doorway. She nodded, mouth full, and she was pretty certain she had powdered sugar everywhere.
“Created a monster.” He took a sip from his own coffee and she realized that once again, she’d slept through most of the day. A glance at the clock said it was nearly five in the afternoon.
She could eat beignets morning, noon and night, she decided as she dressed quickly and followed him downstairs where there was more deliciousness on the table.
He waited until she’d finished, leaning back in the chair and nearly humming.
“Listen, I spoke with Dylan. He’s got Jack with him and I also got some other intel that should clear you both. Once we give it to the feds, they’re going to want to talk to you about testifying.”
“The intel was that good?”
“More than.”
“And then they’re going to want me to go into protection.”
“Probably. And not that I don’t trust the marshal service, but I’d much rather you stay with me and the rest of my team until the trial, if it comes to that. No strings. And then after that … you and I can go our separate ways.”
Her stomach sank. “Is that what you want?”
“I’m not doing this, Grier. I know what I want. I made it clear. Even after you nearly broke me in damned half with that stunt, I still helped you.”
“You didn’t invite me to the wedding.”
“You wouldn’t have taken my call,” he pointed out. “Besides, I might not have, but if you’d shown …”
“Reid …”
“Forget it. Look, we’re going to help you out of this mess, and then you can retire and move on with your life. Do what you have to.”
They had a lot of history, crammed into such a small space of time. She ached when she thought about how badly she’d hurt him, but still … “I can’t stay
with you because you feel guilty, because you have this ridiculous notion that you’re always saved …”
“Ridiculous?” Reid asked, his voice so dangerous. She caught sight of Gunner staring at her from around the corner as Reid stalked away and left her sitting there at the big table in the back of the closed tattoo shop, and she wanted to bury her face in her hands and cry out these last few days.
Gunner plopped a beer down in front of her, followed by a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. And a pack of cigarettes. “I don’t know your vices, so pick one. Or all of them. I can get you more beignets too.”
She managed a smile. “Thanks.”
The beer would be enough, she thought. When she drank half down in a gulp, she motioned for him to pour her a shot and he did so.
“You know his history?” she asked Gunner finally.
“Do you?”
“I know about his mom,” she admitted.
“What about his teammate?”
“No.”
He pressed his lips together into a grim line and then said, “When a man believes in that, a man believes. You ever stop to think he might have every right to? You lost your sister—are you ever going to get over that guilt?”
She shook her head mutely.
“Multiply that and see how you feel.” His words were gentle but his eyes were pure steel.
“I didn’t know.”
“That shouldn’t matter, Grier. Not after all he’s done for you. Whatever happens personally, you need to show some professional gratitude. They’re good guys. If he wants to save you, he’s gonna save you, even if he does it with you kicking and screaming.” He looked at her seriously. “Do you need saving?”
“Yes,” she bit out, her tone completely pissed off, and that merited a grin from him.
“Ah, chère, it’s not so bad being cared about, you know. Give it a try.”
*
Grier went to search out Reid, went in through the back room to the main part of the tattoo shop when a dark shadow fell across the steps. She reached for a gun she no longer wore.
But Reid was there with a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay—he’s with us.”
He walked over toward them quietly, but his swagger was unmistakable. He was tall, like Reid, well built. And on the back of the chair near him was a black leather vest with a rocker that proclaimed him part of the Outlaw Angels Motorcycle Club.
Lonely is the Night Page 8