He spread her, slid one finger along her clit. Harder. Faster. Her breath came in short gasps, her nails digging into his shoulders as she bent her legs. Colter shifted, leaning over her as he slid one finger inside her. Tight. Hot. Wet. So fucking wet.
He bent his head, ran his tongue along her clit as he slid a second finger inside her. She arched against him, his name a whispered plea on her lips.
She reached down, her hand closing over his cock, and stroked. Long strokes, from the base to the head, over and over. Harder. Faster, her rhythm matching that of his fingers, plunging inside her wet pussy.
Her heels dug into the mattress as her back arched, her hips surging toward him as muscles clenched around his fingers. Slow at first, her climax building then shattering.
He moved over her, settled between her spread legs and pushed to his knees. He closed his hand around his cock, pressed the head between her wet lips. She gasped, her hands reaching for him, hips searching. He slid inside her, just the tip of his cock, then eased back out. Teasing her.
Teasing himself.
Over and over, his hand stroking his hard length, wet from her sweet pussy. Again, deeper this time, until she surged against him and called his name.
Until he drove inside her, deep and hard. Filling her.
She closed around him as another climax seized her, silken muscles squeezing and massaging his cock. Colter grabbed her hips, pulled her closer and rocked into her. Slow at first, then faster.
Faster still.
Deeper.
Harder.
One final time as his balls drew tight. As his breath left him. As his heart stopped beating in his chest.
As his own climax exploded, shattering a soul he hadn't realized he still possessed.
Chapter Seventeen
"You want me to do what?"
Colter frowned at Ox then leaned over and closed the conference room door. "Can you keep your voice down?"
"Can you get your head out of your ass?" Ox leaned against the edge of the table and folded his arms in front of him. His eyes sparked with a glitter of something—annoyance, or maybe amusement. Maybe both. "You've lost your fucking mind."
"This is important."
"It's insane. How the hell is me picking up a hooker going to help anything?"
Anger swept through Colter and he ruthlessly pushed it away. "She's not a hooker. She's a thirteen-year-old girl who's been forced to work on the streets."
Ox's demeanor changed, became a little less edgy, but only for a brief second. "That's supposed to make it any better?"
"No, it's supposed to get her off the street."
"Maybe you should start over because none of this makes any sense. What the hell does any of this have to do with keeping your girl safe?"
Colter ignored the reference to Allison as his girl—and gave a brief sigh of thanks that Boomer wasn't anywhere around to overhear it. They'd called a truce of sorts over what had happened yesterday but that could change. Hell, it would change if Boomer found out exactly what the hell was going on between Colter and Allison. Not that Colter could define it because he couldn't. They'd had sex. Was it more than that? Maybe. At least, he hoped it might be. He had no idea what the hell Allison thought. The only thing he knew for certain was that they wouldn't be able to pursue anything until Allison was sure Shonda was off the streets.
"Allison isn't going to stop until she knows Shonda is safe—and she doesn't care if that makes her a target. I can't let her do that."
"Wouldn't it make more sense to figure out who the hell took those shots at Allison? Find him, and everything else falls into place. You take out the bad guy, win the girl, live happily-ever-after. It's a win-win for everyone."
"Yeah—except it's not that fucking easy because there's nothing to go by, just a name: Bug."
"So have Chaos hack into the police files or whatever the hell it is he does."
"He's working on it. The problem is, the police don't seem to have much. The guy's a ghost."
"Bullshit. They must have something."
"They don't."
Colter had thought they would but so far, Chaos was coming up empty. The only thing they had was a street name—and a list of alleged crimes associated with it.
Assault.
Illegal weapons.
Drugs.
Kidnapping.
Trafficking.
Murder.
None of it painted a very promising picture, not if they couldn't pin a real name or even a face to the crimes.
"What about federal databases? FBI. DHS. Any of those shadow hells Chaos used to hang? Somebody has to have something."
"He's looking but so far, he's coming up empty." And Chaos was almost as frustrated as Colter was.
"So your answer is for me to go troll the streets then kidnap this girl when I find her?"
"I never said kidnap."
"No. I'm just supposed to offer to buy her services—which is fucking sick on a level I don't even want to talk about—then...what?"
"Then I'll meet you somewhere and take it from there."
"Which is still kidnapping."
"Not if she needs help getting off the street."
"I thought you said Allison already tried that."
"She did, but something scared the girl and she ran off."
"Are you sure that was it? I mean, how do you know she was scared off? How do you know she just, I don't know, didn't want to be rescued?"
"Ox, she's thirteen. No kid that age would be on the street willingly."
Ox dropped his gaze, stared at the tips of his boots for several long minutes then released his breath in a long sigh. "Shit. Okay, fine. I'll help. But I'm telling you right now, I've got a bad feeling about this."
"Nothing is going to happen except helping a young girl out."
"Yeah. Uh-huh. That's why my nerves are dancing a jig in my gut."
"You don't have nerves."
"Maybe not but if I did, that's what they'd be doing." Ox pushed away from the table. "So when does this happen? Tonight?"
"No, tomorrow. I need to see Allison, tell her what we're doing. Get as much information from her as I can."
"You think she's going to want to wait?"
"She's not going to have a choice. We're already going into this thing half-blind. I need to make sure as many bases are covered as possible. And I need to make arrangements for someone to keep an eye on her so she doesn't try to go off by herself. Boomer is watching her now but I want—"
"No he's not."
"What?"
"I saw him come in about an hour ago."
Fuck! Colter spun on his heel and hurried from the conference room, raced down the hall and skidded to a stop in front of Boomer's office. The man was behind his desk, a frown marring his face as he stared at something on the computer.
"Why the fuck aren't you with Allison?"
Boomer looked up, the frown deepening. "Because she's with Hannah."
"Back at the apartment?"
"No, they went to Allison's place to grab a few things. Zeus gave the all-clear."
"He what?"
"There really was a witness. A real one. Some elderly lady looking out from her bedroom window. The tip was anonymous at first but Zeus tracked it down, went and talked to her. She not only got your plate number, she got a partial from the shooter's car as well."
"So nobody was tracking Allison?"
"Nope."
"She's safe?"
"For now—until she starts poking around, trying to save the world again. Which isn't going to happen because Hannah's bringing her back to our place until we figure out what the hell is going on."
"I don't think—"
"Don't give a shit." Boomer tossed his pen down and leaned forward. "Because I'm sure as hell not letting her stay with you."
"Have you talked to Allison about that?"
"No, and I don't plan to."
"She's a grown woman—"
"She also happens to
be my sister—which is a discussion for another time. And trust me, we will have that discussion. But right now, I thought you'd might want to see this."
Colter started to argue, thought better of it and swallowed the words. Now wasn't the time or the place. He stepped forward, looked at the monitor Boomer had turned toward him. "What is it?"
"That partial? Chaos got a hit. Well, a bunch of hits, actually. It was only two numbers and the woman wasn't real clear on if it was the first two or the last two. The police said they'd look into it but Zeus didn't think they were in much of a hurry so—" Boomer shrugged then hit the print button at the top of the screen. "I narrowed it down to the ones that came close to matching your description. There's a little more than three dozen vehicles on this list. I figured we could do some investigating on our own, see what we come up with."
Boomer pulled the sheet of paper from the printer then held it up. "Unless you want to stand here and argue some more?"
Colter snagged the paper from his hand then spun on his heel and walked out of the office, not bothering to wait. He didn't have to, not when he knew Boomer and Ox would be right behind him.
Chapter Eighteen
"This is your place?"
Allison nodded, looked around and tried to see it from Hannah's perspective. It wasn't very big. One main room that served as kitchen, dining room, and living room combined, the area made even smaller because of the furniture filling it. Not that she had much—and not that it was hers to begin with.
An overstuffed loveseat, the worn upholstery covered with a colorful throw she'd found at a thrift store.
A scarred wooden coffee table, years of drink rings covered by a carefully-placed vase of dusty silk flowers and a few magazines.
The overturned crates on either side of the loveseat that served as end tables, their tops bowed under the weight of the mismatched lamps.
A small area rug—another thrift store find—added a splash of color to the room and hid the worst of the scratches in the faded wood floor. A folding table that was covered in a small tablecloth and a wooden folding chair served as her dining area, room for dinner for one. She didn't need anything larger since she was the only person who ate here and even then, she usually ate curled up on the loveseat.
There was no television, no prints on the wall. Her only electronic equipment was a small tablet that was too old for the latest update and picked up wi-fi about half the time. She didn't need more than that. She hadn't acquired a lot of things since graduating college and striking out on her own. Moving from place-to-place, living in single rooms, didn't allow for the acquisition of a lot of things, especially when those small single rooms usually included a roommate.
For the last few years, Hannah had been that roommate. Brazil. Nigeria. Columbia. Appalachia. The Caribbean. They'd done a lot together, had seen a lot and helped out even more—until last year, when they'd both been on that island together. That had been the beginning of change for both of them.
Yet she was oddly curious about what Hannah thought of her new place. It was small and wouldn't win any decorating awards, not by a long shot, but it was hers. At least, she was renting it, which was more than she'd done since college. And she was absurdly proud of it so she stood there, her hands jammed into the front pockets of her jeans, waiting for Hannah's verdict.
Hannah moved into the room, her gaze scanning the small area. She glanced at Allison then opened the first of two doors and peered inside the bathroom. Closet would probably be a better term—and Allison was almost positive that's what it had once been. There was a small shower stall that reminded her of an upright coffin, a toilet, and a pedestal sink. Small, but filled with the basic necessities. A cabinet would have been nice but the small shelf she'd placed over the toilet created the extra space she needed.
Hannah closed the door then moved to the second—and last—one. She opened, stood in the doorway for a long minute as she studied the small room, then turned toward Allison. "Your own bedroom. It must feel like heaven."
A second later, Hannah was laughing, the sound light and carefree and honest. The tension that had been gripping Allison since she'd left the other apartment with Ryder evaporated, leaving her feeling lighter than she had in months.
Hannah looked back into the bedroom and shook her head. "Do I even want to know how you got that bed in there?"
"Carefully. Very carefully." She moved past Hannah, turning sideways to slide between the double bed and the wall to reach the closet. There was just enough room to open the door a few inches and she squeezed inside, reaching for the cord that would turn on the overhead light. Her backpack—the one that she'd carried for the last two years—sat on the floor, empty. It didn't take long to fill it with the basics because she didn't have much more than the basics to start with. Three pairs of pants; a couple of long sleeve shirts and sweaters; socks, underwear, and three sports bras; one extra pair of shoes. That was more than she needed for the amount of time she'd be spending at Ryder's.
"I still can't believe you've been here since November." Hannah's voice still held a hint of laughter, but Allison didn't miss the underlying question—or the disappointment. She hugged the backpack to her chest and squeezed out of the room, her gaze not quite meeting her best friend's.
"I was going to call when things settled down."
"It's been four months. Things haven't settled down yet?"
"It's, um, it's complicated."
The smile faded from Hannah's face. She stepped toward Allison then stopped and shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. "Ryder told me a little about what was going on but he didn't have a lot of details. Just that it had something to do with victims of trafficking."
"The organization I'm working for now is called Forging Change. It helps women who have nowhere else to go. We get them counseling, offer rehabilitation services, job training. Relocation, if they need it. Some of the women come from abusive relationships. Some from the streets. Others are victims of trafficking."
The small smile that had been on Hannah's' face quickly faded. "Ryder said it had something to do with Katie?"
"Not directly, no." Allison placed the pack on the floor then moved to the small refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of water. She offered one to Hannah then uncapped the second one and took a small sip. "Did he, uh, did he tell you I saw her? And what happened?"
"That she tried to kill herself? He told me. Allison, you can't honestly believe that had anything to do with you."
"I don't know. Maybe. I just—I keep thinking that if I had listened to her, if I had paid closer attention, I could have helped her. But I blew her off. If I hadn't—"
"There was nothing you could have done. And if you had tried, you would have wound up dead. Miller would have killed you, as surely as he killed Tim."
Allison stared at the bottle in her hand and shrugged. "We'll never know, will we?"
"Yes, we do know. I know. He grabbed me, remember? And your brother. And he was going to kill us both and the only reason he didn't was because Ryder stopped him." Hannah closed the distance between them, placed both hands on Allison's shoulders. "And he would have killed you so stop second-guessing yourself, Allison. I just...I wish you would have said something the last time you saw me."
"It was your wedding day, Hannah. I wasn't about to ruin it by laying all of this in your lap."
"We're best friends, have been since we were little kids. You should have told me. And you should have called me when you got here."
"I know. I just...like I said, things got complicated."
"Maybe, but at least we're together now. Just like old times, right?"
Allison returned the hug then stepped back, laughing. "Except you married my goofball brother."
"I happen to love your brother."
"Which just goes to prove that high intelligence has nothing to do with common sense."
Hannah rolled her eyes then reached for Allison's pack and tossed it over her shoulder. Her expression t
urned serious when she straightened and Allison held her breath, wondering what was coming next. "He worries about you, you know."
"Who, Ryder?"
"Of course Ryder. Who else would I be talking about?"
"He thinks I have no direction and no ambition."
"That's not what he thinks. He just wants to see you happy. He doesn't understand the drive to help or the way you immerse yourself in each project."
Allison snorted, the sound decidedly sarcastic. "Yeah. Like he didn't do the same thing when he went off to join the Army."
"I think it's different for him. He thinks helping someone means blowing something up, or shooting something or whatever else it is he does. Not just Ryder, but all of them."
"All of who?"
"The guys he works with at Cover Six Security. I don't know many of them that well but they're all like Ryder." Hannah's voice lowered and a knowing gleam flashed in her eyes. "And Colter."
Heat filled Allison's face and she looked away, suddenly preoccupied with the plastic cap in her hand. She spun it between her fingers, around and around and around, until Hannah nudged her and sent it flying.
"You're not going to give me details?"
"There are no details."
"Yeah, uh-huh. That's why your face is so red. Spill it, Allison. Did you finally sleep with him? Was it worth the year-long wait?"
"Hannah! I can't believe you're asking me that."
"Seriously? After all the pouting you did last year because he was being such a gentleman? Of course I was going to ask."
Allison bent down to retrieve the cap then tossed it in the recycling bin. She drained the water and tossed that in as well. Then she turned to face her best friend with the beginnings of a smile on her face.
"Yes, I did. And yes, it was."
An answering smile spread across Hannah's face. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I knew it! So...you think this might be the start of something serious between the two of you?"
"What? No. It's just—we just...no. It's not like that." And it wasn't. At least, she didn't think so. And she couldn't allow her mind to even wander in that direction.
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