Hot Pursuit- the Complete Collection

by Liza Mitchell

  “This is the only highway heading north on this side of the state. Please tell me how the hell you’re going to know if anyone is following us,” she said.

  “What color is the sedan two cars behind us?”

  “Blue. But that doesn’t fucking matter unless they get off on whatever back hill country road we are and then turn down the private drive. It’s a waste of energy and cortisol right now.”

  “Why do you care?” he asked. “I’m just doing my job.”

  “Oh, I’m your job now? Again. Perfect. So glad we had a conversation and sorted all of that shit out.”

  If Grant hadn’t been driving, Kate would have punched him or kneed him in the groin or fought him into fucking her again… Fuck, she was in deep, and he was just doing his job. But she wasn’t his job, she was his dirty little secret. For years. With an unsaid, “when this is all over…” Or at least that’s what she thought. Maybe she had just been a charity case. But the first thing he’d done was hold her. To stop getting his ass kicked. But he was jealous of Norm.

  “You’re not my job. McIntyre is. Fuck.” He pounded the steering wheel, punctuating his cry. “Let me deal with him and then I can deal with you, with us.”

  “I am not something to be checked off of your to-do list. There is no ‘us.’ You’ve made damn sure of that over the years. You even doubled down on that back at my apartment.”

  “You were playing games in the kitchen.”

  “You’ve been playing games since you helped me run away! You made so many promises. You said you loved me. You said you would find a way to bring me home. You said you would always be there. Then you became a cold once-a-month phone call to make sure that I was still breathing.”

  “I was keeping you safe. He was following me, Kate. What was I supposed to do? Lead him right to you? I didn’t want to lead you on and make you believe that we could possibly have a future because we both know we can’t while he’s still out. And even now there’s no guarantee. We shouldn’t get let things get messy until we know that we even have a chance.”

  Grant exited the highway, and the car bumped down a dirt road while they argued.

  “Fuck off. You didn’t know he was following you. And we’ve been a mess since we fell into each other’s lives. Norm has taken everything from me. You’re letting him take this from you.”

  “Kate, I did know he was following me. It’s my job to know that. I let him because then I could keep tabs on him.”

  “What?” Her heart stopped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I just did.”

  “No, any other time before now. You could have said all of this during any one of our conversations. You think you’re keeping me safe, but you were just keeping me in the dark. You knew where Norm was all this time, you knew he was following you. We could have actually had the upper hand. We could have decided to cook up some plot years ago. But you shut me out. I deserved more than that, Grant. You should have fucking known that.”

  “Don’t you think I’ve realized that after seeing your prison cell? We’ve done this all wrong. I’ve done this all wrong.”

  Kate stared out of the window, watching miles and miles of fields pass by their car. She’d spent years pining after Grant, but did she even want him? Did she want someone else who was just going to make decisions for her? Maybe she just loved him because he was the only real connection she’d had while she was in hiding. Son of a bitch. She did love him.

  Grant turned again down another dirt road that wound into a forest. The sun was setting and thick branches and leaves blocked out what little daylight was left. Kate turned to look at him. She knew what she wanted, and she would do anything to get it. But Grant had undermined them from the very beginning.

  They came to a slow stop in a clearing outside of a small wood cabin, and she propelled herself from the car before it had even come to a complete stop.

  “Kate, stop. Let me clear the area first,” Grant ordered, following closely on her heels.

  “No, it’s fine. I’ve been keeping myself safe for years. I don’t need you to worry about me.” She stalked ahead, her feet pounding on a few wooden steps leading up to a small porch surrounding the rustic cottage. She pushed on to the tips of her toes and ran her fingers along the top of the doorframe over the front door.

  “What are you doing?” Grant asked.

  “Looking for a key. It’s going to be here, under the welcome mat, or…” She trailed off and scanned the items scattered across the front porch.

  “Hanging from a hook inside the firewood shed,” he said as he walked a toward a small lean-to near the house.

  Kate groaned and slammed her head against the front door, wishing she had read the series of texts Dawson had sent to her phone.

  He returned with the key and handed it to her. “I’m going to do a walk around out here while you look inside. Let me know if you need help.”

  “I wouldn’t scream for you even if I was dying,” she mumbled as she unlocked the door and pushed it open, slipping through the crack with her back pressed against the wall. Always against the wall.

  “Fuck,” she whispered, kicking the rustic boards with her heel and stalking into the center of the room. She was safe here, wasn’t she? She definitely didn’t need to be wound this tightly. This sweep was just perfunctory—Norm could have followed them here, but there’s no way he could have anticipated that she would come to hide out in a DA’s cousin's cabin, right? Right.

  She walked the perimeter of the living room, mentally flagging where all the doors and windows were, popped her head into the bathroom, checked for an upstairs and a basement—there were none—and was turning a final corner when she heard the front door creak open.

  Kate dropped to the floor and scanned a bookcase for a weapon, her eyes darting to the nearest exit.

  “All clear out there.”

  Oh god, she needed another drink.

  She stood up slowly, casually sweeping away the dust from her pants and straightening her shirt.

  “What the hell were you doing down there?” Grant asked.

  “Would you believe me if I said I dropped my phone?”

  “The phone that’s still in your pocket? No.”

  “Forget it,” she said, waving him away. “It’s just a reflex. My sense of self-preservation is strong.”

  “Kate, I’m here. You don’t even feel safe with me?” he asked, stepping closer.

  “I don’t even know what safe feels like anymore. Or calm. Or relaxed. Anything that you get from doing yoga is a foreign fucking concept to me.”

  “You shouldn’t have to live like that,” Grant growled.

  “Well, I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

  “I didn’t know how you were living. You never told me.” He moved toward her, frustration pinching his brows.

  “How could I?” she yelled. Fuck, was she actually screeching? She was shaking with rage, backing away from him, clenching her fists, that right hook buzzing just underneath her skin. “You told me when I could call. You told me how long we could talk. You decided today to finally come and fucking see how I was living. You were just as controlling as he was.”

  “Kate,” he ground out, reaching for her.

  But she sprung into action, releasing years of anxiety and rage in a single shift of her hips and shoulders, driving her fist upward toward his jaw. Only to have his hand close around hers before it could make contact with its target.

  Grant swung her around with an infuriating amount of grace, pulling her back against his chest and wrapping his arms around her.

  “I wasn’t trying to control you. I was trying to keep you safe,” he leaned down and whispered, burying his mouth in her wild hair.

  “You should have tried asking what I wanted, what I needed, to feel safe,” she spat back, struggling against his hold. Like a boa constrictor, the harder she fought, the tighter he held her, and she found herself completely surrounded by his massive biceps, pulling her a
gainst his barreled chest. Her ass grazed something rock hard that was way too fucking big to be his belt buckle…

  “You get off on holding me down, watching me fight against you?” She fought harder to break free as his grip grew stronger.

  He calmly brought his lips to her ear. “I get off on feeling every fucking inch of you pressed against me. I think you’re the one who likes the fight.”

  Her cheeks burned as he wrapped an arm around her, holding her in place, and let his other hand drift down her stomach.

  He was right. If she really wanted to get away, she could probably break few bones in his foot, maybe even his nose, and escape his grip.

  “I get off thinking about touching you for the first time in years, hearing you moan under my touch, tasting you again.”

  His hand slipped into the waistband of her leggings, toying with her, moving painfully slowly to one of the many places on her body that was screaming for his touch.

  “I thought we had a murderer to catch,” she hissed, arching toward his fingers, praying that he wouldn’t take her bait, praying that he wouldn’t pull away.

  “I’m going to do this first. I’m going to make you feel safe,” he said driving his hand lower. “And relaxed.” He slipped a finger between her lips. “Since I don’t think yoga would do it for you anyway. Maybe wrestling would,” he said, plunging a finger inside of her, drawing a ragged gasp from her mouth.

  His fingers moved rhythmically while he whispered all of his unsaid fantasies that had kept him up at night over their years of separation.

  Heat seared through her, and her legs shook as he rubbed the callused palm of his hand against her clit.

  Each whispered promise drew her closer and closer to coming. His hand and lips worked in tandem, flooding her with warmth as she melted into his arms.

  “Go into the bedroom, get your clothes off,” Grant finally growled into her ear, his hand slowly retreating from her pussy.

  She should scold him for telling her what to do… or she could nod slowly as blood rushed in her ears and do something without thinking, without looking over her shoulder, without her back against a wall.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ______________

  GRANT

  He could hardly focus as he swept through the house. He didn’t want to think about that one window he forgot to check or be distracted by exits and floor plans and all the bullshit that had—rightfully—weighed on Kate’s mind for years.

  What a fucking mental load.

  There would be zero distractions once he got to her. He just needed to clear the thought of her laid out on the bed, wet—so fucking wet—and just waiting for him.

  His cock ached and strained against his jeans as he checked windows and locks and closets, making a circle through the cabin until he ended up right where he started.

  His gaze swept to the bedroom. He hadn’t heard a single goddamn sound from that room. At all.

  The image of Kate held tightly in Norm’s grip, a gun pressed to her head, filled his thoughts. He found her. He had her.

  Grant sprinted across the living room, slamming into the half-closed bedroom door, crouching into a prone position, ready to attack.

  Instead he found Kate, scrambling backward across the bed. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she roared.

  She’d been laid out, spread open, for him, touching herself.

  Everything else fell away.

  He hadn’t seen her body in years, but he’d have sworn on her life that every curve, every beauty mark was seared into his brain.

  His memory didn’t do any justice to the woman laid out before him.

  “Lie back down,” he ground out in a voice he barely recognized as he quickly shed himself of his jeans.

  “No, why the fuck did you come tearing into here as if—”

  He cut her short by grabbing her ankle and dragging her down the mattress onto her back.

  “It was too quiet,” he said, pushing her knees apart and kneeling at the foot of the bed. “Didn’t mean to interrupt you. Keep going.”

  He ran his palms along her calves and knees and thighs, his eye focused only on Kate, her cunt, the fingers poised just above her slick lips. Fuck, he wanted to taste them, drag his tongue along that sweet, pink skin, hear her moan above him, giving herself over to him, while he emptied her mind of everything and everyone but him. His touch, his cock, his arms.

  “I was just waiting for you,” she said quietly. All the fight had left her voice.

  “I’m here now,” he responded, rising from his knees and trailing kisses from her ankle, up her leg, sinking his teeth into her thigh, sliding his tongue along her skin until he found her pussy.

  Kate gasped above him, and he smiled as he felt her weight shift as she arched to meet his eager tongue.

  His hands explored her stomach as he reached for her breasts and her deep mauve nipples that had been taunting his fantasies.

  Her moans filled his ears as he licked and sucked all the sweetness from her cunt. Toying with her clit until her sounds became desperate and primal, then bringing her back down to earth, nipping at her tender skin and dragging his tongue along her slit. She wouldn’t come without him. Not this time.

  He dug his fingertips into her thighs, resolute to keep his hands off his own cock. He’d had enough of his own goddamn palm—all he wanted was her.

  Kate’s moans became rhythmic, and he realized that she was quietly chanting the word ‘please’ over and over. Her hands were buried in her hair as if she was losing her mind, and her body writhed beneath his touch like a live wire.

  He couldn’t wait any fucking longer.

  All at once he sprung from the floor and covered Kate, wrapping his arms around her, pressing himself as closely to her as he could, guiding his cock into her, filling her.

  Her nails dug into his back as he drove into her, grinding his hips against her, relishing in the noises he drew from her perfect fucking mouth.

  Her sighs turned into louder, demanding pleas as she moved beneath him, gripping his shoulders. Her knees squeezed against his waist, her cunt spasmed, and she cried out as her orgasm ripped through her body.

  He was fucking gone. Driving into her one last time, he came with her, holding her close and emptying himself into her. Claiming her, marking her, washing away all the demons of her past.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ______________

  KATE

  She buried her face beneath the blankets, hiding from the morning sun. Fuck, shouldn’t she enjoy seeing her first sunrise in years? Maybe living in a dark hole had its benefits.

  “Are you going to wake up? Or am I going to have to drag you from that bed?”

  Grant’s voice seemed miles away, and she could now hear the slow drip of the coffeepot. He would get up at dawn, even after last night. He’s probably already gone for a run or some shit.

  “The sun is too bright,” she groaned. “Close the curtains, and maybe I’ll let you bring me a cup of coffee in bed.”

  “There’s no sunlight. That’s just the overhead light I turned on because you were taking too long to wake up on your own. We still have a murderer to catch, and Dawson is already blowing up my phone.”

  “No, there are two windows over there.” She waved a hand toward the corner of the room.

  “They aren’t real. You should feel right at home. I’ll turn off the light and bring you coffee if you promise to look at some more property records Dawson sent over.”

  “What do you mean, ‘they aren’t real?’” she asked, throwing back the quilt.

  “Whoever added on to the cabin didn’t even bother closing up the windows. They’re just pass-throughs to the kitchen and the sun porch. I’ve never encountered so much fucked-up DIY construction in such little time. Reinforced door frames, windows to nowhere, just ridiculous.”

  “What did you say?” Kate asked, her heart racing.

  “It’s ridiculous, your place, this place, makes no sense.


  “No! The windows to nowhere.”

  She shot out of bed. And picked up her phone. “We told Dawson to look for motels or schools, something uniform that would explain the rooms.”

  “Yeah, that was a good lead, but it didn’t pan out.”

  “Yes, but what about Norm’s storage facility?”

  “Storage units don’t have windows, and they usually have garage doors. They don’t look anything like the rooms the jurors are being kept in,” Grant responded.

  “But we can’t see the door. And what if he has windows to nowhere, too? I’m looking up the address to see how remote it is, but think about it. What if he framed in the units, put up some wallboard, put plywood on the walls to make it look like windows, then when the police start pulling property records, they would disregard the storage facility altogether for the very reasons you just said.”

  She leaped off the bed once the map finished loading, revealing a wooded lot located up a long and winding driveway. “Look,” she yelled, unable to hide her excitement. “That’s fucking remote.”

  She didn’t need to convince Grant. He was already dialing his phone. “Dawson, she fucking found him. It’s over.”

  She crossed the room, jumping into Grant's arms, laughing as he tried to juggle his phone, answer Dawson, and hold her tightly against him.

  Their life was just beginning.

  THE END

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