Trap 'N' Trace

by Tee O'Fallon

  When the light turned green, he stepped on the gas pedal harder than necessary and the SUV shot up Tweed Boulevard.

  They stopped briefly at the Haven to collect Angus and for Dayne to confer with the guard outside. Everything had been quiet in their absence.

  After rolling through the big gates and pulling up in front of the castle, he hit the door popper, allowing Remy and Angus to leap out. While the dogs played, he spoke with the guards on duty at the castle and received the same “all quiet” report.

  “I have work to do,” Kat said then went inside, leaving the door open.

  He was about to follow her when Remy uttered a low growl and thrust her nose in the air, staring into the adjacent woods.

  “Stay here,” he told the guard coming around the corner, then scooped Angus into his arms and deposited the puppy inside the castle. No sooner did Angus’s feet hit the floor than he tried darting back outside. “Not this time, little guy.” Using his foot, he gently nudged the puppy out of the way as he closed the door.

  His K-9 stared at the same location, her nostrils flaring. Remy had scented something, or someone. The wind blew in their direction, which meant his dog could be picking up on any number of things. Given his gut feeling that morning, Dayne wasn’t taking any chances. He grabbed Remy’s tracking leash from the SUV and clipped it onto her collar. “Such.”

  Remy took off, taking up the slack in the leash and sniffing the air as she led them into the woods. Enough light filtered through the mix of deciduous and coniferous trees for him to see a good hundred yards ahead. But Remy’s nose was far better than Dayne’s vision. Depending on wind direction, physical obstructions, and swirling air currents, she could pull in scents originating thousands of yards away.

  As they pushed farther into the woods, Dayne’s heart rate skyrocketed. They were so close to putting the habeas grabus on this guy, he could taste it.

  They continued in a straight line through the trees, passing a vine-covered concrete bunker—the one Kade mentioned. Remy didn’t track to the building so they continued on, crossing the boundary into Blauvelt State Park. In the last few days, the ground had dried, and their feet made swishing, crunching noises on the dry leaves and low scrub. If someone had been on the property, they wouldn’t have left any deep footprints.

  Occasionally, Remy sniffed the ground, circling several times before taking off again in the same direction they’d been heading. Which meant she was on a hot track. Which meant…

  Someone had been there. Not a deer. Remy’s body language was entirely different when she tracked people. Adrenaline cranked in Dayne’s bloodstream. If the killer was here, they’d get him.

  Five minutes later they stood in a parking lot at the edge of Bradley Hill Road, the western boundary of the park. Remy circled frantically, her nostrils flaring as she scented the asphalt again and again, but it was no use.

  The scent ended there.

  Dayne scanned the road. Whoever Remy had been tracking must have had a vehicle parked in the lot and driven off. He looked around for pole cameras, but there were none. The killer was too smart to make such a simple mistake. If it really was the killer. Dayne didn’t have a psych degree, but he was convinced Manny Gomes was an intimacy-seeking stalker.

  As the adrenaline drained from his system, he turned in a slow three-sixty. There was no innocent reason for someone to leave a vehicle this far away and trek all the way through the park and onto the Vandenburg property. Given that Kat was a famous person, it could have been the paparazzi or a gawker looking to snap a photo.

  Dayne stroked his chin. With a killer and a potential stalker on the loose, he couldn’t assume anything that tweaked his or Remy’s radar was a harmless coincidence.

  He slipped his phone out and dialed one of the guards outside the castle. The guy picked up on the first ring. Dayne couldn’t contain the note of anger. “Notify your partner, and report this to your head office. There was an intruder on the property.” Not that it was the guards’ fault. Dayne hadn’t picked up on it, either. Remy had, but she was the best K-9 tracker he’d ever seen.

  “Yes, sir,” the guard replied, and Dayne ended the call. No sense getting into it. The guard would be extra vigilant now, and that had been Dayne’s intent.

  “Good girl.” He patted Remy’s side then tapped his chest.

  His dog rose on her hind legs, resting her front paws on his chest. All K-9s viewed work as fun, and this was one of many rewards he gave her for a job well done. As another reward, he unclipped her leash and draped it around his neck, allowing her to run free during the trek back to the castle. She took full advantage and darted happily after a few chipmunks, always returning to his side.

  Eventually the castle came into view. The property really was too large to put under constant surveillance or completely fence in. That joke he’d made about a piranha-filled moat and .50 caliber guns on the turrets…not so funny, now.

  The safest course of action was to keep Kat inside at all times. She’d hate the idea. He could already hear the argument they’d have if he tried broaching the subject.

  As he and Remy climbed the steps, he noted the guard rounding the north corner to commence his hourly rounds. He opened the door, expecting Angus to bound out. He didn’t. Dayne closed the door, straining for sounds of the puppy.

  The house was quiet. Too quiet.

  “Kat?” he called out. When she didn’t answer, his heart rate began to soar. “Angus?” Again, nothing.

  Common sense told him no one could have gotten inside with guards on duty, and one of them would have notified him if Kat had gone out. That didn’t stop the hairs on the back of his neck from standing at full attention.

  He pushed his suit jacket aside and rested his hand on his gun. The living room and kitchen were empty. Next, he went to Kat’s office. Her desk was piled high with stacks of documents, some labeled “urgent.” The bud vase on her desk held a solitary rose. Now he knew why the bouquet in the kitchen only had eleven roses, not a perfect dozen.

  He checked every other room on the main level, including his quarters and the giant library with floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Kat wasn’t in any of them.

  His heart rate picked up more.

  At the bottom of the stairs, he heard something. Remy’s ears twitched, and she cocked her head. The same sound drifted down the stairs.

  Someone moaning—Kat.

  Shit. Drawing his weapon, he raced up the stairs. Remy charged after him. How the hell had someone gotten inside?

  At the top of the stairs, he paused, straining to hear over his own heartbeat, which pounded like a goddamn freight train chugging up a hill.

  The same sound came again from his left, softer this time. Glock extended, he ran to a door that was half open. In between the slams of his heart against his ribs and the pounding of his blood in his ears, he heard sniffling.

  Kat lay curled up on a king-size bed with her back to him. No one else was visible, but he scanned every corner of the room and the bathroom just the same. He hung his head and let out the mother of all silent, relief-filled breaths.

  Slowly, he lowered his weapon and holstered. She’s fine, his brain screamed. Physically, at least. The sounds he’d heard were her crying. Everything she’d been holding in all week had finally erupted. He’d known the time would come. It had only been a question of when.

  As his heart rate slowed, he dragged a hand down his stubbled jaw. Kat’s body trembled from the occasional muffled sob. Angus sat on the foot of the bed, his puppy expression one of uncertainty. The puppy’s confusion was totally understandable. Dayne didn’t know what he should do, either.

  What he ought to do was a quick one-eighty and hightail it back down the stairs. That message never made it from his brain to his feet. The next thing he knew, he stood at the edge of the bed. When he sat, the mattress dipped, and her eyes snapped open. A flash
of fear flickered in her eyes, dissipating when she realized it was him.

  “You okay?” he asked, taking in her red-rimmed eyes and the fresh stream of tears.

  Ah, fuck.

  Those big, sad tears were his undoing.

  He cupped her face with one hand, stroking her thick, silky hair with the other. She covered his hand with one of her own, clutching his tightly. The trembling increased to the point where Remy padded to the edge of the bed, resting her head on the mattress and watching Kat from sympathetic canine eyes.

  “I just c-can’t believe she’s gone,” Kat sobbed. “This sh-shouldn’t have happened. It shouldn’t have.”

  “Shh,” he whispered, continuing to stroke her hair and trying not to think about how soft it was beneath his rough fingers. The trembling worsened, and her sobs became louder.

  He didn’t know what it was—instinct or fear—that if he didn’t do something and do it post-haste, she’d drown in her own tears. Or maybe it was the immense tug on his heart that made him do it.

  Dayne gathered her in his arms, rocking her gently while she cried, rubbing her back in slow, easy circles. With every breath, he inhaled her pretty, flowery scent into his lungs. Slim arms wrapped around his back, clinging to him like he was a human lifeline. They stayed that way for several minutes, until her sobs quieted.

  He eased her back to the mattress, intending to disengage, but she held fast, forcing him to the mattress alongside her.

  Their mouths were only inches apart, and Dayne’s resistance deserted him in less than a second. Warm breath fanned his face. He lifted his hand and rubbed her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, savoring the softness of her skin. With a groan, she rested her forehead against his. The movement pressed her breasts to his chest, sending streaks of lightning straight to his groin. I’m in deep shit. And getting deeper.

  When she tilted her head, their lips grazed. He was sure the contact was unintentional, but he didn’t move one single, freaking muscle. Every part of his body froze like a block of ice. Yep, even that part.

  Like the idiot he was, he found himself wondering how soft her lips would be if he kissed her. For real and not by accident. The need to find out pounded in his brain.

  He tilted his head a fraction of an inch. When their mouths made contact again, he had his answer.

  They were softer and sweeter than he could have imagined.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kat’s pulse thumped wildly as their tongues tangled and tasted. Every ounce of grief and fear and desperation that had been building since the morning she’d found Rebecca Garman’s body roared through her like an unstoppable force.

  She wrapped her arms around Dayne’s back, digging her nails into the thick muscles beneath his suit jacket. Vaguely, she registered Angus hopping off the bed.

  Doing this was a mistake, but she didn’t care. A demon had taken possession of her body. For one brief moment in her all-too-structured life, she wanted—no, needed—to do as she pleased. She just wanted to feel. To eradicate the grief and most of all, to forget—just for a few minutes—that she’d lost a good friend whom she loved dearly.

  She slipped her hands beneath Dayne’s jacket, sliding them up his ripped abdominals to his pecs. His big body shuddered beneath her seeking fingers.

  Too many clothes.

  She wanted to feel bare, naked skin.

  His kiss grew hotter, or maybe that was her body temperature soaring out of control. As she dragged the jacket off his shoulders, he broke the kiss and stripped it off the rest of the way. His hands stroked over her breasts, cupping and caressing, making her nipples ache and tighten until all she wanted was his mouth sucking hotly on the sensitive peaks.

  He clenched his jaw, sucking in deep, unsteady breaths. “Kat, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “Don’t. Think.” She drew his head back down to hers, kissing him with every pent-up emotion screaming to be cut loose. “Please,” she whispered, “make me forget.” Hot tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and he began kissing them away.

  She angled her head, allowing him easier access as he kissed his way down her neck to her throat, then to her breasts. He unbuttoned her blouse and tugged it from the waistband of her skirt. With a flick of his thumb, her lacy white bra opened, baring her breasts.

  “Jesus,” he breathed. A second later, his lips were on one of her nipples, sucking it into his mouth, licking and nipping gently until sparks shot down her belly, zooming to her core.

  She gasped and arched deeper into his mouth. No one had ever made her body feel so good, so alive, and she wanted more. No strings attached. No regrets, and no tomorrows.

  Her core pulsed with wild need. “Hurry, Dayne. Just hurry.” Before she changed her mind. Before she regretted doing something—the only thing—in her entire life that wasn’t in perfect line with the exemplary life everyone expected her to lead.

  Dayne hiked up her skirt and hooked his fingers at the waistband of her silk nylons and panties. Cool air hit her thighs and calves as he slid the garments down her legs. Her skin might be cold, but her internal body temperature was hot enough to melt chocolate.

  His broad chest expanded as he took in her bare lower body. His hands—large, strong, and hot—stroked her inner thighs until his thumbs touched her wet folds. Pleasure streaked to her core, and she arched off the bed, uttering a mewling little cry.

  Kat grabbed one of his wrists, urging him to push his fingers into her. When he did, she nearly orgasmed on the spot. Still not enough. She wanted him inside her.

  The gun on his waistband was barely an impediment as she undid his belt and pulled down the zipper. When she cupped him, he was long, thick, and hard.

  “Kat,” he grit out. “Stop.”

  “No,” she cried. “I need you inside me. Now.”

  “Dammit.” He pulled away then sat on the edge of the mattress, sucking in deep breaths.

  “What are you doing?” She levered onto her elbows. “Don’t you dare stop.”

  Taking another deep breath, he glanced over his shoulder. Clear green eyes filled with regret lasered into her. “We can’t do this.”

  “Why the hell n—” She stiffened. Oh no. Oh god, no. What have I done? Shame washed over her in roaring waves and her cheeks flamed. Throwing herself at him was ten shades beyond inappropriate. He was there to protect her, nothing more, and she’d taken advantage of the situation to satisfy her own selfish needs. “I’m so sorry.” She took an unsteady breath to slow her pounding heart. “You’re right, this was a mistake. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Attacked me and torn my clothes off?” His lips curved into a faint smile.

  “You-you actually think this is funny?” She grabbed the sides of her blouse, dragging them together to cover her breasts.

  “Yeah.” He chuckled. When she glared at him, he sobered instantly. “I mean, no. We need to talk about what just happened.”

  “No.” She shook her head. It would be far too embarrassing. “Just let it go. Please.”

  His lips flattened then his cell phone vibrated against her hip. He looked at the screen and swore. “We’ve got company. A limousine is approaching the gate.” He pushed off the bed, tucking his shirt into his pants as he strode from the room. Remy and Angus hurried after him.

  Sitting up, she stared at the door. Bile rose in her throat. I’m a slut. There was no other word for it. She touched her fingers to her lips. Lips that still throbbed, still wanted what she couldn’t have.

  My life is a living, breathing soap opera.

  Slowly, she stood on wobbly legs and walked into the bathroom. She flipped on the lights and stared into the mirror. While it didn’t hurt as much as yesterday, the ugly purple bruise had spread to her collarbone. That wasn’t what shocked her most.

  Her hair sprung in five different directions. The skin around her mouth was
pink, abraded by Dayne’s five-o-clock shadow, and her bra hung unhooked beside her breasts. She covered them with her hands, imagining they were Dayne’s hands cupping and kneading, flicking at her tender nipples.

  No! She dragged the lacy cups together, quickly refastening the bra. He was right. They shouldn’t do this. Theirs was a business relationship. One of the black-and-white rules she’d learned from her father sprang to mind: Never mix business with pleasure. Because it always—always—complicated things beyond repair and killed the relationship.

  The gate tone blared from the security box on the wall.

  “Kat!” Dayne shouted up the stairs.

  She clapped a hand to her forehead. Oh shit. Her friends had arrived. She’d completely forgotten they were coming over.

  “I’ll be right down,” she called out. Working quickly, she buttoned her blouse then brushed her hair. Next, she went in search of her jacket and shrugged into it. Dayne’s suit jacket lay on the floor. She picked it up and held it to her nose, torturing herself all over again at how good he’d smelled as he’d been on top of her.

  The gate bell chimed again.

  “Kat!” Dayne bellowed.

  “I’m coming,” she shouted back, stepping into her shoes and draping Dayne’s jacket over her arm.

  Coming? Hadn’t she just nearly done that?

  Angus and Remy waited for her at the bottom of the stairs, their tails wagging. Dayne stood in the foyer, his arms crossed and lips pursed. Light from the chandelier glinted off the gold badge clipped to his belt directly in front of his holstered gun. “You should have told me you were expecting company.”

  She threw his jacket on the table, not caring when it slid onto the floor.

  They’d practically just made love, and all he could do was stand there and act pissed because she’d forgotten her friends were coming over? What an a— Correction, jerk.

  The gate bell chimed again, but she ignored it, advancing on him and pointing a finger at his chest, stopping just short of actually touching him. Her heart beat harder as her temper flared. “You have no reason to be pissed at me.”