Savage Love

by Lisa Renee Jones

  His hand is on the back of my head, his face close to my face, breath warm on my lips. “Shut up and show you the apartment?”

  “Yes, damn it. Show me our apartment, Rick Savage, because I’m not leaving. Ever. Not without you.”

  His mouth slams down on my mouth, and by the first swipe of his tongue, I’m melting and against the wall. His hands caress my body, and mine are under his T-shirt, the feel of taut skin over hard muscle, creating a low, burn in my belly. I want him. I want him so badly that I can barely stand it, but he pulls back, his lips leave mine.

  I’m panting when he murmurs, “You have no idea how badly I want to be inside you right now.”

  “Then why aren’t you?” I challenge.

  “You’re home now. The next time I’m inside you, I want you to know you’re home.”

  “I was home the minute I saw you again, Rick Savage.”

  He catches my hand. “I want you to see the apartment.” His free hand is on my face, and he kisses me again, a quick swipe of tongue before his cheek is against my cheek, and his mouth at my ear. “Then I’m going to take you to the shower, suds you up and lick that sweet spot between your legs until you quake on my tongue.” He pulls back. “You got a problem with that?”

  “No,” I whisper, all but whimpering with the idea. I’m wet. I’m aching. I tremble as I add, “No problem.”

  He smiles and pulls me to him. “Good. Then let’s take a tour.” He rotates me and faces me toward the rest of the apartment. “Go explore, baby, so I can explore you, later.” He smacks my butt and I yelp but I’m smiling when I hurry forward, suddenly eager all over again to the see the apartment.

  I step into an incredible room that is, well, incredible. I take it all in, just gobbling it up with my eyes. The floors are a gray and brown swirled finish of some sort, almost a concrete. The ceilings are low with wood beams down the center. Windows run floor to ceiling and present a stunning view of the city, while the living room is all sleek gray leather. There’s a steel staircase leading upstairs to the bedroom I assume. And there’s the most unique, cool, see-through strip of flooring that exposes decorative industrial pipe and serves to divide the living room from the kitchen. And the kitchen is a whole other level of incredible. A giant island is long and wide, made of the wood that matches the brown in the floor and the cabinets.

  I’m still taking it all in when Rick’s hands settle on my shoulders, warm and strong, as he leans in close, nuzzling my neck. “We can sell it if you don’t like it.”

  I rotate in his arms. “I love it. It’s stunning. It’s a fantasy apartment. How long have you had it?”

  “A year after joining Walker. I’d come off a big payday, a legit payday. Nothing with Tag felt legit. I was living in a shithole and Blake heard about this place, some Wall Street dude had custom built it and then went belly up. When I saw it, the first thing I thought was: what would Candace think?”

  “Too bad you didn’t call and ask me to come see it in person.”

  “Well as you said, the time apart, made us who we are now, who we need to be together. And Walker helped me find a path to being human again. I needed to be that for you.”

  My fingers curl around his T-shirt and I look up at him. “You were always human.”

  “No, baby. I lost that part of me but I won’t lose him again. Not as long as I have you and Lord help anyone, Pocher included, who tries to take you from me.” He catches my fingers. “Let’s go try out the bedroom. I got one of those plushy mattresses you like.” He drags me to him. “And no one else has been in that bed, but me, until you, now.” He lifts me and throws me over his shoulder, and I’m laughing as he hauls me up the stairs.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Candace

  I’m still laughing when Rick throws me on the bed and comes down on top of me but somehow my mind goes back to what he just said: Not as long as I have you. That’s his line in the sand. He’s human if he has me and only if he has me. He leans in to kiss me and I press my hand to his chest. “If anything happens to me—”

  “It won’t—”

  “Listen to me, Rick. If anything happens to me, I need you to make me a promise.”

  “That I’ll go with you?”

  “That you won’t go with me. That you’ll save lives for me. That you’d honor our love by saving lives. I’m not saying be a surgeon, but I’m saying, don’t go off the deep end. Don’t become a killer.”

  “I already am a killer.”

  “Damn it, Rick. I’m serious. I can’t be the end of you.”

  “Baby, you’re the beginning and the end of me.”

  “Promise me. If anything happens—”

  “It won’t.”

  “Rick,” I compel.

  His lips tighten. “I will honor you and us, always.”

  Relief washes over me and I smile. “How about that shower? And suds and—”

  “I don’t need to be asked twice.”

  He scoops me up and carries me to the bathroom that is gloriously beautiful, with a huge oval tub, a window with a city view, and a granite shower. It doesn’t take us long to end up in that shower, under the stream of the water. Or long before we’re soaping each other up, and my hand is exploring his tattoos—his mouth on my nipples. Or long before he’s kissing me, and running his hands all over my body. He presses me in the corner and goes down on one knee, his tongue licking between my thighs. I shatter quickly. How can I not with this gorgeous man licking me? And then he’s on his feet again, and there’s a shift in the air, that dark part of Rick, present, and accounted for.

  “I want to taste like you for the rest of my life,” he murmurs, his voice raspy, rough, and I can barely breathe until he kisses me, an intense, drugging, possessive kiss that shouts a message. He wants. He needs. He’s coming apart inside and out.

  I don’t fight this darker him, I never fight it, in fact, I welcome this part of the man I love. I revel in being how he escapes, how he copes, with that burn inside him. He turns me to the wall, and I press my hands against it. He drapes himself over me and I know this is about control, his need for it. I took that from him with that promise. The idea of me dying is the ultimate loss of control. The idea that he might die, is the same for me. I need out of my head as much as he needs that power, that control.

  His hand slides over my backside, a shiver of anticipation skittering along my damp skin, and I glance back at him. “Do it. Do it.”

  He smacks my cheek but it’s light, a promise of more that has my sex clenching and my back arching. “Do it,” I call out. “Rick, I—”

  I moan as his fingers slide between my legs, then his thick, hard cock is pressing against my sex. His lips find my ear. “You’re not leaving.” It’s a possessive command, and he follows it by smacking my cheek again, this time harder. “Ever.”

  “Neither are you,” I say, and then he’s inside me, stretching me, filling me, one hand on my breast, the other, spanking me. He thrusts, and his hand comes down on my cheek. I cry out with pure pleasure. The sting of his hand and the explosion of nerve endings as he thrusts undoes me. He undoes me.

  His fingers pinch my nipple and his hand comes down again, his cock pounding deep inside me at the same moment. Over and over, he repeats, and just when I think I might topple over into bliss, he pulls out and rotates me to face him. He catches my leg, lifts it to his hip, and then he’s not just back inside me, he’s kissing me like he will never kiss me again. We erupt in wildfire and dissolve in passion. When our bodies still, and Rick lowers my leg, he drags his hand over my wet hair and tilts my face to his.

  “No, I do not promise to save the fucking world if you die. You don’t get an excuse to die. If you die, I will blow the fucking world up. Non-negotiable.” He kisses me again and walks to the shower door and exits.

  ***

  Savage

  She doesn’t get to die.

  The end. That’s the only ending I accept. I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist. She ste
ps out of the shower, her naked body glistening with water, and despite how hard I just rode her, I could easily do it again. But now is not that time.

  “Rick—” She begins to make her case, but I’m not hearing it.

  I’ve already grabbed a towel from the rack that I wrap around her now. “We need to rest while we can.”

  “You don’t get to use me as an excuse to become a monster.”

  “And you don’t get to use some promise I won’t keep to die. I will never make a promise that requires you dying for me to keep it. Don’t fight me on this. Because it will be a fight. Let’s go rest. We both need it.” I don’t give her time to argue. I scoop her up and carry her to the bedroom. She gives up the fight, at least for now, and I grab the remote on the nightstand to darken the blinds on the floor-to-ceiling windows. Before I lie down, I send one text message and that message is to Kane Mendez: I need to see you today, after four. Name the place and time and I’ll be there.

  I set the alarm for two hours from now and then roll over to Candace, who’s facing me, waiting for me. My hand settles on her face. “What do you think of the bed?”

  “You’re in it. It’s perfect.”

  “Tired?”

  “Nervous.”

  I don’t ask about what. We have two enemies left to battle: an assassin in Alejandro, and the man I suspect hired that assassin in Pocher. “Don’t be. You’re sleeping with your enemy’s enemy, and he loves the hell out you.” I scoop her into me, her back to my front and wrap my body around her body. “Sleep, baby. I have a plan. Watch and see.”

  She doesn’t ask what plan which is good because I doubt she wants to hear my answer. Which would be to kill everyone that’s in our way if that’s what it takes to end this.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Savage

  My alarm goes off and I grab my phone and silence it. Candace snuggles deeper into her pillow and murmurs, “Come back.”

  I smile and lean over and kiss her neck, but I’m also checking my messages to find nothing from Kane. What the fuck? I pull the blanket more snuggly around Candace and walk into the bathroom and then the closet. Five minutes later, I’m dressed in cargo pants and a T-shirt with combat boots, ready to do whatever I have to do today to end this bullshit. Bullshit doesn’t get a lifespan. It gets an ending. I brush my teeth and then quietly sneak out of the bedroom to head downstairs. Once I’m there I dial Kane to get his voicemail, “What the fuck, Kane? Call me back.” I disconnect and make coffee because yes, it’s headed on two o’clock in the afternoon, but my baby likes her coffee all day long and my baby is getting her coffee.

  By the time it’s brewing, I dial Kane again and leave a friendly message this time. “What the fuck, Kane? And I mean, what. The. Fuck?” I pour a cup of coffee and then dial Asher, before moving on to Adrian and Smith, looking for perspectives on all fronts, and they all align—they believe Alejandro left Texas. We all believe he’s coming here. I set the phone down and dribble my finger on the island, replaying what Tag said to me before he died, and considering the connecting dots of Tag and Pocher. They do connect, I decide, in ways my gut has been clamoring about but my mind just caught up to. Blake needs to be caught up, too.

  I’m about to call Blake to confirm he’s on his way when Candace comes rushing down the stairs. Dressed in jeans and a pink sweater, her hair is in long, soft, natural waves.

  “Why didn’t you wake me up?” Candace asks, hurrying across the room. “It’s almost two now. Isn’t Blake coming at two?” She pauses beside me, pushes to her toes and presents me her glossy pink mouth, which I happily kiss.

  “You get cranky when you don’t sleep,” I remind her.

  She scoffs. “I do not.” She eyes the coffee pot and her expression lightens. “You made coffee.”

  I wiggle my brow. “And I went easy on the scoops.”

  She smiles and darts for the pot, opening the overhead cabinet. “Rick, you have two cups if we count the one you’re drinking out of.”

  I twist around to lean on the island and watch her. “We have two cups. I guess we better go shopping.”

  “Yes. We do have to go shopping. And I need to get some work done. I’m committed to a project I haven’t finished. Once that’s done, I can go all contract work.”

  “How are you feeling about that, baby?”

  “Good actually.” She leans on the counter, facing me, cup in her hand, that ring finger of hers bare and begging for a ring—my ring. “I can take on passion projects now,” she continues. “I might make a little less at first, but ultimately, I’ll make more.”

  I push off the island and step in front of her, lifting her hand around her cup to my lips and sipping. My eyes meet hers and heat simmers between us. The kind of heat that can bring a man to his knees, at least this man. “So much better when it’s from your cup with you holding that cup.”

  She gives me a shy, sexy smile. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, baby. And you don’t need to worry about money. We have a shit ton and I mean a shit ton. We can travel the world for our architectural inspiration or work if you want. You always wanted to see the pyramids.”

  “I do,” she says. “Have you?”

  “Not intimately.”

  “But you have.”

  I stroke her cheek. “Don’t sound so disappointed. I saw a lot of things that would have been better with you. They will be better with you. And as a bonus for our travels, I already know how to tell someone to ‘fuck off’ in about seven languages. I can only speak three, and only two of those well, but ‘fuck off,’ I got that one down.”

  She laughs and the doorbell rings. “That will be Blake. He’s on my approved list. Anyone who isn’t, can’t get up here unless the doorman calls us and clears the visitor.”

  “Unless it’s an assassin who knows how to get around such things?” She tries to deliver that question as a joke but her voice lifts and her tone is bleak.

  I cup her face. “Tell him to come on in. I’m waiting.” I kiss her and head for the door.

  Blake and his wife Kara, are alone and holding bags of food. “We brought burgers from Joe’s,” Kara says. “She does like burgers, right?”

  Kara’s a pretty brunette who’s not only ex-FBI, she handles a gun about as well as us Walker men. I figure her and Candace will get along just fine and I prefer Candace have friends who can kill the enemy, in between chit chat.

  “Ask her yourself,” I say, motioning her on in the door so that I can talk to Blake.

  “Rude,” Kara snaps, “but at least she can pick her burger before you two beasts chow down.” She hurries on into the apartment and Blake steps closer. “Nothing. Alejandro has simply disappeared. I checked all methods of transportation, and we’ve hit up traffic cameras all over San Antonio. He disappeared on foot after the shooting and no one has seen him since.”

  I scrub the stubble on my jaw I never got around to shaving and curse.

  “Maybe he took the money and ran,” Blake offers.

  “He didn’t,” I say, and I leave it at that and so does he.

  Candace and Kara are sitting at the island across from each other, each with a burger and fries in front of them, chatting away. Yep. These two are going to be peachy keen friends. That works, but the distraction of a new friendship doesn’t last long for Candace. The minute we join them on our respective sides, Kara’s attention is on me. “I hear she was craving a burger. I’m a mind reader and I have good news I already shared with Candace. Kelly called me on video chat.”

  I arch a brow. “And?”

  “Max was with her. He’s alive. I talked to him, too. He didn’t know how to reach you and they had to go dark. He said he owes you.”

  “Did you tell him Tag was dead?”

  “No. I didn’t know at the time.”

  We talk back and forth through a few bites of our burgers before Candace asks, “How is my father?”

  “Good,” Blake says, reaching for a second burger, as I do the same. “I’m having
him taken to a safehouse, just until I know this is over.”

  “Do we think he’s a target?” she asks, casting me a worried look.

  “Tag wanted me, you, Gabriel and your father dead,” I say. “Until Alejandro is dead, and I’ve dealt with Pocher, he’s better off in a safehouse.”

  “Can’t he stay here with me?” Candace.

  “Not until he’s debriefed,” Blake says, saving me from that hell. I have issues with that man. I can’t focus on ending this threat and him, not when he and I have a history that divided Candace and I. “Talk to me about Pocher,” Blake says, downing a fry. “Tag wanted those who could expose his operation to die. I get that. But Pocher is out of this now. Gabriel’s dead. His involvement is dead, too.”

  “Wrong,” I say connecting the dots for everyone else that I connected myself over my coffee. “First,” I add. “Pocher is the one who hired Alejandro to protect Gabriel. Tag supposedly paid him to turn on Gabriel but Pocher is the Society. They’re the deep state. You don’t outbid the Society. ”

  “You think Pocher wanted to kill Gabriel?” Kara asks. “I thought he was his future presidential star?”

  “He was,” I say. “But he had baggage. Lots of baggage. We never got the chance to take him down, but we would have. Pocher could easily have gotten wind of that and wanted to cut the threads.” I hold up a fry for emphasis. “Think about it. Even now, if that dirty laundry comes out, Pocher looks bad.”

  “But slaughtering us all?” Candace says. “Won’t that turn eyes on him?”

  “That’s the beauty of all of this,” I reply. “Tag thought he set it all up. Tag was the perfect fall guy. The problem for us now is that I’m also a problem for Pocher. He has to get rid of me in a way that doesn’t make Walker start digging around.”

  “Then we have to take him the fuck down,” Blake says, already done with his burger and tossing his paper in the bag. “I’m sure I can hack a million secrets on that man.”