by Kitty DuCane
Victoria crouched in the bushes, inhaling the night air filled with the smell of damp wood. The smell reminded her of all the times she'd trained in the woods, stalking, evading, recon. The night air was cool against her skin, but at least it wasn't raining. She was as successful as men were when it came to military tactics, but women in general were cursed when it came to body temperature. Men's nerve endings were buried deep so that the cold didn't bother them much. Females, on the other hand, had their nerve endings sitting just beneath the skin. She snorted. It wasn't fair.
It had been three days since she'd lied to Hayden. My God. What had he expected? His choices were nothing but no-wins for her. But the sex—she couldn't wipe that out of her mind. Her womb clenched just thinking about it. She cursed herself when her mind wandered back to that night and away from her mission. She wanted his skilled hands, that tantalizing tongue. She wanted to be tempted, teased, and then she wanted his powerful cock to fill her. And she hated that she wanted him.
She pulled her mind back to the mission. She couldn't afford another distraction, and Hayden was a distraction.
She'd already drugged the roving patrol, exactly like last time. They obviously hadn't learned how vulnerable they were, but there was always an off chance that she'd missed someone, someone new. Her dad had always said to be prepared and be prepared to be unprepared. She had been unprepared for Hayden.
She blinked to clear her head. Tonight was Julio's night to “be seen” on the club circuit. She preferred to kill Julio up close and personal, but with the possibility of Hayden lurking around, it would have to be long range. But dead was dead.
She caught movement to her left and traded her rifle for her bow with the drugged darts. She didn't want to kill anyone but Julio, but she would if any of the lunkheads got in her way.
She steadied her sights and slowly scanned the area, waiting for movement again. Her heart dropped. Hayden? Damn. How had he found her?
Her mind wrestled for a solution. If she drugged him with her dart, he'd be pissed, but he'd eventually get over it, and she'd be gone before he could do anything about it.
She'd already moved out of her room and into the homeless shelter, and it was perfect. No one cared about her there—as long as she kept her hair tucked away, wore oversize, hideous clothes, and babbled like an idiot. And the bus stop was on the corner. It would take him a while to find her…if he could.
She had Hayden in her sights. He looked right at her, and a chill raced down her spine. That couldn't be; he was over one hundred yards away. She eased the string back and held her breath. She blinked before she let the arrow fly, her bow falling forward in the usual style.
She waited a few minutes before she gathered her weapons and headed to where he was. Hayden was a big man, and she wanted to make sure he was out and no threat to her. She couldn't leave him in the open for any of Julio's men to find him, so she'd hide him somewhere, finish her mission, and then call the DEA and tell them where to pick him up.
Taking her time to reach Hayden, she used another of her dad's mottos—don't rush when you don't have to. When she reached the spot, she paused. Hayden wasn't slumped on the ground passed out, like she'd expected to find him. Kneeling, she inspected the ground and found several sets of footprints. Damn it. Either she'd missed—which was impossible—or Julio's men had already picked him up. Panic seized her as she thought about an unconscious Hayden in Julio's hands.
She searched the area looking for drag marks, because Julio's men wouldn't—couldn't—pick him up, unless there were four of them, and she'd already immobilized two patrols.
She inspected the tree, looking for an indentation from a dart miss, and found nothing. She had two choices: kill Julio and then find Hayden, or keep searching for Hayden and probably miss the opportunity to eliminate Julio.
Damn you, Hayden. Why can't you stay out of my business?
Movement drew her attention to the house. Julio stood on the balcony sipping what looked like a martini and admiring his domain. That could be a good sign. If Hayden was in there, Julio would be watching…unless Hayden was already dead.
If Hayden was in there, that was another reason to kill Julio. She moved to the tree line, squatted, and readied her Remington M24 sniper rifle, a birthday gift from her dad. It was a fitting tribute to use it now.
Julio's smug face came into her sight, reminding her how much she actually hated the man. She allowed for wind speed and wind direction and closed her eyes. Closing her eyes was a ritual. Close the eyes, clear the mind, open them, and take the shot.
She opened her eyes. Julio was still there. She gently squee—
The rifle was wrenched from her hands before she got the shot off, banging her cheek in the process.
Hayden stood beside her, angry waves rolling off him. She held his gaze and waited. Oh, she wanted to scream at him for ruining it—again. Twice now. She'd never forget that or forgive. Disgust flashed across his face, but she refused to bend. If anyone in the world deserved to die, it was Julio and Manuel. She wasn't sorry for them, and she surely wasn't sorry for herself. It was what it was—pure hate.
* * * * *
Hayden's teeth ached from his wolf clenching them. He couldn't believe that she was going to take the shot and ruin her life over the nephew of a cartel leader. And that was on top of trying to drug him. Lucky for him, his wolf had picked up the incoming threat, so he'd been able to sidestep the dart in time and catch it with his hand.
“Damn it, Hayden. Why can't you leave me the hell alone?”
“Because I can't. I can't let you kill somebody.”
“Haven't you ever killed anybody, Hayden?”
“Sure I have, but that's different.”
She rested her hands on her hips. “Oh really. How?”
“We had evidence and warrants, but they decided to be stupid and started firing. It was always self-defense.”
“Well, lucky for you, you have a piece of paper to wave around when you shoot somebody. I don't have that.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at her rifle in his hands. “And I don't need it.”
“If you kill Julio, I'll have to lock you up. Is that what you want?”
“The state will not spend any money on me after I get Julio and Manuel. At that point, my mission is done.”
“And what about your life? Is it done at that point too?”
“Actually, my life was 'half-done' about eight months ago. It will be 'done' when I complete my mission.”
Hayden's mind raced. Realization slammed into his gut. “You're going to kill yourself?”
She lifted her chin. “No, I'm not 'going to kill myself,' but after the mission, my life won't matter.”
He stood there glaring at her, barely containing his fury. Her anger assaulted him and pissed him off. Her sadness assaulted him and twisted his gut. Revenge was what she was after, but he didn't have a damn clue why. He wanted to jerk some sense into that pretty little head. And his beast wanted something entirely different.
His mate for life—according to his wolf—wanted to commit murder, and then her life was “done.” What did that mean? Ah hell. What had he done to deserve this?
“You can't win against the cartel,” she said. “You arrested Julio last week, and he stayed in jail less time than I did.”
She poked him in the chest with her finger. “You've got a leak.”
“Turn around.”
She rolled her eyes before she turned.
He cuffed her and led her off the estate and to his truck.
After he strapped her in, he said, “I think what you need is a night as a guest in the county jail.”
She shrugged, which pissed him off.
* * * * *
He released the handcuffs and pushed her into the cell with three other women inmates. One was a prostitute, one had a hangover, and one had stolen a bottle of cheap wine from a convenience store.
She rubbed her wrists. “Are you sure I won't kill them?” she as
ked.
“No. You only have two on your hit list. You don't kill innocents. I know that because both times you drugged Julio's men with darts instead of killing them. So you do have some conscience in there somewhere.”
“Yeah,” she said. “You keep believing that.” She smiled and turned away from him.
He watched her from the surveillance room for the next six hours. She took a nap, took a piss, and took another nap. Fear raced through Hayden when one of the inmates approached her while she slept. She was instantly awake, twisting the woman's arm around her back and pinning her to the wall. If you blinked, you would have missed it; she was that good.
And when she took a piss, he wondered if she knew he was watching. Her hair danced down her back as she lowered her pants and bent over, giving him and the other officers in the room an erotic view. He wanted to bash the other guys' heads in for their whistles and comments. Why the hell were they in here anyway? And when Murray commented about her bald pussy, Hayden's hand was on Murray's throat before anyone realized what happened. He was out of control where she was concerned, and he didn't like it.
His wolf growled.
Hayden apologized and managed to sidestep all the questions thrown at him about why he had this woman in custody. They believed that she was here for the original attempt on Julio's life and the escape from the hospital. He forgot to mention the second attempt.
It was all crazy. Last week, he would never have let attempted murder slide, but with her, it was different. He'd risk his career for her, and she didn't even give a damn.
And he damn well didn't like it either.
Chapter Seven
Hayden zipped through a burger drive-through and drove like a bat out of hell to get home. She, whatever her name was, remained distant and silent in the passenger seat beside him. He, on the other hand, knew that his soul was on fire. Her weariness bothered him, her anxiousness bothered him, her sadness bothered him, and her hunger bothered him. And his lust bothered him.
He practically had to force her to eat, but enticing her with a shower was easy. He stayed in the bedroom and forced himself not to tear the damn door down and take her right there on the bathroom floor. His beast raged, imagining the water sluicing down her curves, down those intimate parts, down that wonderful pussy. He cursed at himself. He shouldn't be thinking about screwing her when her whole life was in turmoil, a turmoil she wouldn't let him fix.
The door opened, and she stood there like a vision from heaven. Her wet hair hung loosely down her back, and his shirt had never looked that good on him.
He held up a brush and motioned for her to sit in front of him on the bed. She reluctantly came. He scooted back, wrapped his arm around her middle, and tugged her close to him. With long, slow strokes, he brushed her hair, starting at the scalp and going all the way to the ends. He'd never brushed another woman's hair before and wasn't sure why he was doing it now, but it soothed her, which in turn soothed him. Her hair felt like fine-spun silk, and it carried the scent of pure seduction.
She relaxed so much that her head nodded. He kissed her on the cheek, pulled the cover back, laid her down, and tucked her in. And his beast raged.
* * * * *
Victoria straddled his belly and watched Hayden open his eyes. He was tied, spread-eagle, to the bedposts with the silk scarves she'd found.
He was so beautiful. So perfect. She rubbed her fingertips across his well-defined abs. His body was pure sin, and she planned on sinning.
“You got plans for me, sugar?”
She said nothing, but leaned forward and licked his nipple, right before she bit it.
His erection swelled between her legs, and she quivered; quivered at the promise.
She took his other nipple, beaded from desire, and sucked it hard. His skin was hot; touching it seared her. He smelled wild, wicked, and sinful. She started at his belly button and crawled up his body, planting bites along the way. His body clenched with each nip. She stopped and kissed an old wound on his chest that was close to his heart. Too close.
She tugged at his lower lip, and he growled. She plunged her tongue into his warm, inviting mouth, craving his totally male taste. His tongue darted in and out of her mouth, and her womb clenched at the suggestion of such. She captured his tongue and sucked, and his hips lifted in response.
Suddenly, she had to have his tongue somewhere else. She scooted up and straddled his face, her hands braced against the headboard. A long, slow lick separated her silky folds. God, it felt so good. His tongue passed over her clit lightly, and she pressed down, angling for more pressure.
He took her clit and sucked it. Hard. He held her between his teeth and lashed her clit with his tongue. He let it go, and she shifted slightly, letting his tongue plunge into her pussy, over and over. Her body trembled as pleasure invaded her. He withdrew his tongue, which was fine with her; she needed something else.
She shifted again so that her clit was the main course. His tongue danced hard and rough as her hips rocked against that sensuous tongue. Her orgasm was sweet as she rode his face, bucking against his wonderful mouth.
* * * * *
He'd come awake instantly when she had tied him up, but he let her play the game. She'd found his toy box. He wasn't worried about her tying him, as he knew that at any time he could break the silk bindings or even the bedposts themselves. He'd personally never allowed himself to be tied up before, but for her, he'd make an exception.
He knew most of the single men he worked with didn't bring women home with them. Instead, they went to her place or got a hotel room. They said it was easier to leave when they got ready to go.
Hayden always brought his women home. He wasn't going to lug his toys around in his truck, and he surely wasn't going to take them into a hotel room where the walls were as thin as toilet paper.
She climbed down his body and nestled between his legs. Hayden gazed at her. No. She wouldn't, would she?
She licked her lips and squeezed the head of his cock. A clear drop of cum glistened. “Don't you hate it when your body betrays you?”
Her tongue snaked out and lapped the head of his cock. He moaned. She licked it like a lollipop, and then she stopped and smiled. He managed to keep still and not beg.
“What do you want, Hayden?” She licked him again.
“Sugar, I want you to take as much as you can and suck as hard as you can.”
“Like this?” She engulfed the head of his cock in her warm, sweet mouth and sucked.
His hips rose. “Hell yeah, sugar. Just like that.”
He'd died and gone to heaven. Her tongue swirled, and her warm mouth sucked. His cock swelled. And then she stopped to look at him. Tease.
“More, baby.”
She took her time and ran her tongue from the base of his cock to the head. She paused. He waited. She took him in and sucked while her hand wrapped around his cock and pumped wildly.
Her talented tongue was driving him crazy. She cupped his balls, and he almost came.
“Sugar. Unless you plan on finishing this, I suggest you stop.”
She gave his cock one more long, hard suck before she released him. She took a condom from the nightstand, opened the packet, and rolled it on him. Then she lubed him up and straddled him. He restrained himself from pushing into her, letting her do all the work. She eased the head inside herself and wiggled herself down. Her slow rise and fall was killing him.
“Grab your breasts for me, sugar.”
She gazed at him through lowered lashes before cupping both of her breasts and squeezing.
He watched her head roll back. “I bet they're sensitive,” he said.
She nodded and moaned as she rolled both nipples.
“Lean forward and let me taste.”
She did, and he grabbed a nipple with his teeth and nipped. She cried out, and his cock jumped. He bent his knees and thrust while he held her nipple captive. He needed more. He needed faster. He needed his hands free. He tugged on the silk, a
nd the finials flew. Gripping her hips, he plunged harder, faster, and faster still. She screamed his name with her release, and her muscles contracted hard around his cock. He slammed into her, and he growled his release as waves of pure ecstasy rolled through him.
She lay on his chest and snuggled in close with his cock still inside her. He'd never get enough of her.
“You cheated,” she said.
He smiled. “I always do.”
* * * * *
Just like last time, he watched her dress. He didn't like it this time either. The sun wasn't even up, and they should be going at it again, but she was leaving. Their entire relationship reminded him of the cartoon about the wolf and the white sheepdog with the hair that hung down in his eyes. The whole cartoon evolved around the fact that, during the day, the sheepdog and the wolf did their jobs and tried to “outdo” each other, and then at five o'clock, they'd clock out as friends.
“See you tonight, sugar?” He held his breath.
She looked at him with sad eyes, then turned and left the bedroom. At least she wasn't going to lie again. He could only hope that she needed him as much as he needed her.
She moved through the house, quiet as a mouse, but his wolf could hear her. He closed his eyes. She was complicated, mysterious, infuriating, sexy, and driving him fucking insane. If only she would let him in, let him help. He was a problem solver. He could solve her problem. But she had to let him to do his job.
Suddenly, shock reverberated through him. Gunfire! He jumped out of bed, snatched on his jeans, and grabbed his gun and cell phone. His heart pounded and lodged in his throat, threatening to choke the life from him. As he tore down the hall, he punched in the numbers for 9-1-1. When the dispatcher answered, he identified himself as DEA and rattled off his address. When he reached the hall closet, he dropped his phone on the carpet and retrieved a rifle from the hall closet. He heard every gut-wrenching round of the semiautomatic as the bullets slammed into his walls, his couch, his things. Glass shattered everywhere.
He stopped at the living room door. The woman-without-a-name was lying on her belly, flat on the floor, with blood pooling on her left side. Fear. He'd never known true fear before, and right now, it was pressing down on him, squeezing every breath out of him. The scent of her blood mingled with the scent of her fear assaulted him. Another round lodged in the back wall, narrowly missing his head.