The Tracker

by Leslie Georgeson

  About forty-five minutes later, Tracker thrashed and moaned from his room, jerking my attention away from the television. He must have fallen asleep and was now in the midst of another nightmare. I shut off the television and rose from the chair. He was obviously hurting. Badly. I hesitated, then headed for his room. He needed me, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

  And dammit, dangerous or not, I was going to help him.

  Ignoring the fear that clenched at my gut, I knocked on his bedroom door.

  Be careful, Jess. He might hurt you.

  He’d warned me to never go in his bedroom if he wasn’t awake and coherent, because he didn’t know what he might do in his dream state.

  But I couldn’t let him suffer alone anymore.

  He didn’t answer my knock. So I pushed open his door and flicked on the light.

  He was still fully clothed, tossing and turning on top of the bed.

  “No,” he whispered. “Fuck you. Fuck you!”

  I hesitated. He was obviously in the middle of a nightmare. This would be the worst time to approach him.

  Staying in the doorway where I felt relatively safe should he wake up confused, I yelled, “Tracker! Wake up!”

  He stilled. His breathing grew shallow. Had he heard me?

  I took a hesitant step toward the bed. Then another.

  He sat up abruptly, his gaze zeroing in on me. I could feel his sudden tension from where I stood. But he didn’t appear to recognize me.

  And then it occurred to me to try a different approach than what I’d used before.

  “Liam,” I whispered, taking another step toward him. “It’s okay. I’m here. Everything’s going to be okay.” I kept shuffling forward until I reached the side of the bed and paused, ready to bolt to safety if he lunged at me. “Please, Liam, let me help you.” My senses on high alert, I waited tensely for him to react.

  He turned his head toward me, his expression softening. His body relaxed, the tension leaving him. “Momma?” he whispered, his voice small, childlike.

  My heart crashed down and splintered apart. The man before me right now was not Tracker, a violent killer, but Liam, a small boy who I desperately wanted to know more about. An innocent child that I somehow sensed had endured too much pain and sorrow. I leaned over and touched his cheek. He turned his face into my palm and let out a sigh.

  I waited, and when he didn’t turn back into the soldier and attack me, I slowly sank down on the edge of the bed next to him, believing the danger had passed.

  He grabbed my wrist and kissed my palm. “I thought I told you to say out of my bedroom, Jessica.”

  And just like that, Liam was gone, and Tracker was back.

  But I wasn’t afraid. There was no anger, no coldness emanating off him. Just…sadness. Resignation. What was going through his mind?

  Heat tingled in my hand from the brush of his lips. His breath tickled my palm as he continued to hold my hand in front of his face.

  “You were having another nightmare,” I whispered, trying to ignore the awareness that crackled between us. “I can’t stand to see you hurting. Why won’t you let me help you?”

  He sighed. “You want to help me?” His gaze probed into mine.

  My heart thundered loudly in my ears. I swallowed hard. My voice shook as I spoke. “Y-yes.”

  “Then let me touch you,” he said hoarsely. “Help me to forget.”

  Desire coiled in my loins, mixing with a hint of fear. I wanted this, yet I was still afraid.

  “How?” I whispered. “I don’t…know what to do.” My face burned.

  He smiled gently. “Shall I start? And if you like it, I’ll continue? If you don’t, I’ll stop?” His words were soft, gentle, but there was definite heat in his eyes.

  Let him touch you, Jess. You know you’re going to like it.

  Desire pooled deep in my belly.

  “O-okay.”

  He held my gaze while he lifted a hand and gently cupped the back of my neck. My breath hitched as he slowly lowered his head.

  His lips brushed mine.

  Magic soared between us, a mingling of breaths and desire and a deep emotional connection I’d never experienced before. I moaned softly, mesmerized by his kiss, his touch, his very essence. I lifted my hands to his shoulders as he deepened the kiss, angling his head for better access, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with mine. I gasped and clutched at his shoulders, hanging on for dear life. Oh my God.

  His arms came around me, pulling me closer, as he deepened the kiss further, claiming me with his mouth, his tongue, his desire.

  Finally, he drew back, looking deeply into my eyes, his gaze searching. “Shall I continue?”

  I swallowed hard, unable to look away from the heat in his eyes. “Yes.”

  His lips twitched, ever so slightly, then he kissed me again, gently brushing his lips against mine. He drew back, holding my gaze, then kissed me again. Softly. Slowly. And again. A soft brush of lips against lips. And again. Over and over. He drew it out, long, slow, hot kisses that made my heart race and desire surge through me, heating every inch of my body, turning me into a wanton pool of lust, desperate for more.

  My hands trailed down his torso, feeling his hard pecs beneath the T-shirt. I wanted him naked. I wanted to feel all those hard muscles against me. Skin against skin. Lifting his shirt, I slipped my hands inside.

  He moaned softly, leaning away. Then he quickly shed his shirt, his gaze melting into mine with a fierce heat that made my breath catch.

  “Go ahead,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. “You can touch me.”

  I hesitated, then let out a nervous laugh. “I’m not very experienced with this kind of thing. What if I…don’t do it right?”

  He let out a soft groan. “Everything with you feels right, Jess. Go ahead. God, don’t stop now.”

  I reached out to touch his naked chest, pressing my palms against his hot skin. Muscles bunched and clenched beneath my hands. He was so hard. So powerful. So masculine. So beautiful.

  I lowered my head and kissed his nipple while continuing to gently explore and caress him with my fingers, feeling him everywhere. God, he was gorgeous. Then I moved across his hard chest to his other nipple and licked it gently.

  He hissed out a breath, closing his eyes, and leaned back against the headboard. Did that mean he liked what I was doing? His hands went to my hips. He lifted me, pulling me closer, on top of him. I fell into him, gasping softly as I landed directly on his erection that swelled against his jeans beneath me. So hot. So hard. So ready.

  My breath caught. I slowly lifted my gaze to his face.

  His eyes were open, hooded, lust blazing from their dark depths as he watched me.

  Oh my God. I was straddling Tracker. Right on top of his swollen erection. Desire coiled deep in my loins, a longing so fierce, so intense, I was about to burst from need. I closed my eyes and rocked against him, unable to control the longing inside me. He moaned, his hands tightening around my hips as he thrust up against me. I threw my head back and gasped at the sensation. Then we moved together on the bed, rubbing, moaning, gasping, but still separated by our clothes. I needed more. I needed to feel him against me. Inside me.

  I lifted my shirt over my head and tossed it aside, watching his face. He breathed out harshly through his nose, his gaze darkening as he stared at me. He slowly lifted his hand, hesitated, and jerked his gaze to mine.

  “Can I touch you?”

  I nodded, my gaze never leaving his. Yes, oh yes!

  He gently, reverently cupped a breast in his palm. His skin was rough, coarse, but when he rubbed his thumb across my nipple all I felt was intense pleasure that rippled straight down to my very core. I gasped softly and pressed closer into his hand, while rubbing against his erection beneath me.

  He let out a soft growl, then raised his head and took my nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. A sharp, pleasure-pain coursed through me, making my toes curl. I pressed against him, moaning softly, my body
on fire with longing. Oh God, more. Please, more.

  I tangled my fingers in his short hair, hanging on tight, as he continued to lavish my breast with his mouth, over and over. Oh God, it felt so good. It wasn’t enough. I wanted more.

  He leaned back, breathing heavily. “Is this what you like? My mouth on you?”

  I looked into his smoldering eyes that had turned the color of slate. “Yes.”

  He let out a harsh breath, then rolled me over, flipping me on my back next to him. He leaned over me, covering my body with his, his mouth taking mine in a savage kiss that left me reeling, breathless. He was relentless in his possession, his big body smothering mine while he ravaged my mouth, over and over, leaving no doubt who was in charge. Leaving no doubt that I was his. My breasts pebbled against his hard chest, my body hyperaware of every single inch where it touched his. It was almost too much. His possession. Too consuming. I couldn’t breathe. I loved every second of it. More. I wanted more.

  His hands went to my leggings and he quickly yanked them down, leaving me bare.

  His mouth continued its exploration, trailing down my body, kissing me everywhere. I completely forgot about my earlier fear, letting out a soft breathless sigh as he moved lower, and lower still. Desire coursed through me, heating me everywhere, making me want.

  I gasped as I felt his hot breath between my legs. I squirmed and moaned as that small bundle of nerves came alive under his touch and another jolt of heat shot through me, a strange tingling that centered in my core and made me hyperaware of his every touch.

  He continued his relentless assault with his mouth, over and over, driving me insane with desire. I clutched at the covers, moaning softly, wanting, needing, but afraid of this foreign invasion of privacy, this intimacy that I’d never allowed anyone before.

  He continued his assault and I gave a startled cry as a wave of something powerful came on strong. I tried to ignore it, tried to push it back, but he kept at me relentlessly until I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I let out a soft gasp as he brought me to the brink and forced me over the edge. To a place I’d never been before. It was a long, long moment before I crashed back to earth.

  Yes, it was a little embarrassing to admit I’d never had an orgasm before. But no one had ever done that to me, either. Tracker gazed up at me, his eyes smoldering with lust.

  A loud, thunderous banging came at Tracker’s apartment door.

  “Fuck!” He jerked upright, scowling. His gaze latched onto mine, his expression softening. “We’re not done here. I’ll be back.” He reached over and gently stroked my cheek. “I promise.”

  I nodded slowly, my body still humming from the incredible orgasm he’d just given me.

  I wanted to experience it all with Tracker. Every little thing.

  Please hurry back.

  He rose from the bed and quickly left the room. Voices came from out in the corridor, then Tracker’s door slammed.

  I rose slowly from the bed and quickly dressed.

  When I ventured out of Tracker’s room moments later, he was gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Tracker

  Leave it to Tony to interrupt me while I was right in the middle of touching Jessica for the first time. Fuck, I could still taste her on my lips. I’d never gone down on a woman like that before. I’d never wanted to. Until Jessica.

  God damn, the woman tasted like freedom and sex and heaven all mixed into one. I wanted her so much it was literally screwing with my mind, messing me up inside. And I’d been so close to having her, making her mine in every way possible.

  Until Tony had pounded on my door.

  Tony’s unnecessary interruption pissed me off royally. I wanted to smash his fucking face in. A familiar darkness raged inside me, swirling around, seeking release. I needed to set the darkness free or it would consume me.

  I shoved him backward. “What the fuck you want?”

  Tony sneered. “You. Come on, motherfucker. You want a piece of me?”

  “Yeah,” I snarled. I couldn’t go back to Jess when I was in this kind of mood. I would have it out with Tony first.

  All the dregs were pissed at me for what had happened to Gordon, for leaving him behind. I didn’t blame them. I was pissed at myself for what had happened, too. How long could Gordon keep the seed growing in Gunner’s mind? Not one of the other dregs had agreed to help me get Gordon back yet. I wasn’t sure if any of them would help me. I’d done the unthinkable. I’d left one of our own behind.

  Tony waved me down the hallway, a disdainful look on his face. “After you.”

  I marched past him down the corridor to the workout room. Damn him. I needed a physical release, a way to purge myself of all the emotions swirling inside me.

  Desire for Jess.

  Frustration by Tony’s interruption.

  Anger at myself for failing to get Gordon out of there. How the fuck could I have left him there?

  As luck would have it, Nate was in the workout room, slamming his fists into the punching bag. All the dregs were religious about keeping our bodies in shape. It had been drilled into us for so many years it was like breathing.

  Tony followed behind me, snickering softly.

  I turned and glared at him. “You and me, in the ring. Right now.”

  Nate paused to glance over at us. As Tony’s partner, he was able to decipher Tony’s moods better than the rest of us.

  Tony made an elegant bow before me and motioned me toward the ring. “Ladies first.”

  The rage inside me festered, the darkness taking control. The urge to release it hit me hard. Tony hated women for some reason, Jessica in particular. He’d mocked me from the moment he discovered I was letting her stay with me, calling me pussy-whipped, saying I was going soft. He blamed Jessica for what had happened to Gordon.

  Nate hurried forward, stepping between us. “In the ring. You know the rules. Tap out when you’ve had enough. I’ll be the ref.” He glanced at Tony. “Tracker’s bullet wound is off limits. Got it?”

  Tony’s lip twisted in a snarl. He was probably the most violent of the dregs. He had no mercy. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend what went on inside of his head. But there was no doubt in my mind his soul was damaged. Gordon, Nate and I had pulled him off a guy he’d beaten to death on one of our missions a few years ago. His rage had been so overpowering that he couldn’t stop, even after the guy was obviously dead. Tony had worse issues than the rest of us. That’s why he’d been discharged. His mental state was iffy at all times. He was like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. Nate could handle him better than the rest of us. If I thought I was a beast, Tony was ten times worse. He wouldn’t be gentle with me. He’d probably go for my injury just to prove he could. If Nate weren’t here to referee, Tony might even try to kill me.

  This was perfect. I could release my frustration, my aggression in the ring. I could purge myself of the darkness swirling inside me. I could rid myself of the demons threatening to take hold. And I could let Tony beat me to a bloody fucking pulp. It was what I wanted. What I needed. Punishment. I wanted to punish myself for my failures.

  A part of me wanted to punish myself for caring about Jessica, for letting her get to me. For making me feel. For changing me, making me weak. I wanted to get back to her, to finish what we’d started, but right now I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to touch her again. Tony had brought my demons to the surface and they needed to be released before I went anywhere near Jessica.

  No sooner had Tony and I entered the ring, we were on each other, slaps, kicks, punches, strikes to tender areas. Just as I suspected, Tony went right for my bullet wound, elbowing me hard.

  I fell back onto the mat with a soft gasp of pain, landing on my ass. Tony tackled me onto my back, wrapping his arm around my throat in a submission hold. He squeezed hard. Relentlessly.

  I gasped, choked.

  His eyes filled with bloodlust as he stared down at me, his expression cold, lifeless. It occurred to me in th
at moment that Nate might not be able to drag him off me. When Tony went into a bloodlust, it was almost impossible to stop him. I reached down blindly until I grabbed his ankle and yanked it backward. He grunted, his arm loosening around my neck enough for me to escape. I rolled away and lunged to my feet, my bullet wound throbbing. Tony bounded upright, limping on his injured foot.

  Nate circled around us, watching for a signal that one of us wanted to stop.

  The door to the workout room burst open. I flicked my gaze over as Jessica stormed into the room with Ryan and Luke. Ah shit. What was she doing here?

  Tony took advantage of the distraction and launched himself at my legs, knocking me backward onto the mat again. Then he began pummeling my face with his fists. This was a little out of control, even for Tony. Taking out our aggression in the ring was common, but this level of violence toward one of our own went to the extreme. He must be really pissed at me for letting Gordon get kidnapped. Even so, I welcomed the assault. Craved the pain. Wanted to bleed.

  “Stop it! Let me go!” Jessica’s voice penetrated my senses, snapping me out of the haze of pain inflicted by Tony’s fists. I couldn’t see around Tony’s body to what was happening over by the door, but if those bastards hurt her, I’d kill them.

  I slammed the side of my hand into Tony’s throat.

  He gasped and fell back. Rolling off me, he lunged to his feet, his eyes black with bloodlust. I slowly rose, eyeing him warily while trying to keep an eye on Jessica.

  Jessica shoved open the gate and flew into the ring, making a beeline straight toward me. Nate snagged her around the waist, bringing her to an abrupt halt.

  “Whoa there. Stay out of this. Tracker wanted a fight, so let him have one.”

  “Are you crazy?” She squirmed in his hold.

  Tony tackled me again, yanking my arm back in a fierce arm bar. Pain careened up my arm into my shoulder. I grunted and ground my teeth together. Son-of-a-bitch, it hurt. I should tap out, but I didn’t know if Nate would even notice, he was trying too hard to hold Jessica back. And I doubted Tony would let me up if I did.