by Leigh, Lora
But it was over now. The authorities had the pictures that proved Ross had been behind the assault on the woman Nick Casey now guarded so diligently.
Not that she seemed to mind. There was a smile on her face that hadn’t been there before, and a joy and youth to her that would stay with her for many years to come. Because the man she loved, the man who loved her, refused to let her out of his sight.
Just as Ethan Cooper loved his Sarah, Nick Casey loved his Sheila.
That left three: Jake Murphy, Iron Donovan, and Turk Rogan.
A weary sigh filled the inside of the truck that held the eyes of the past. A tired, disillusioned sigh. It wasn’t over yet. Not yet.
And there could be no peace until it was.
FOURTEEN
There was a heat surrounding him that Casey knew he would never escape. One he never wanted to escape.
As he lay with the woman he loved more than life itself and pulled his lips from the kiss that was pulling him headlong into a complete meltdown, he realized how he was looking forward to that final surrender to her.
Until then— He looked down at her kiss-swollen lips, the drowsy sensuality in her gaze and her flushed cheeks, and he reminded himself that getting there was just as heated, just as incredible.
Beneath him, Sheila arched closer, her lithe, naked body twisting beneath his as the blunt, heavily engorged head of his dick prodded at the swollen lips of her pussy.
Slick silk. Damn, that was what her bare, satiny pussy felt like. Like the softest, hottest syrup saturating a silk so pure and fine it could only be made in paradise.
“Casey, please,” she whispered as his lips descended to her breasts. “Oh yes, lick my nipples.” She arched closer yet, whimpering as his lips closed over them and he let her feel a hint of his teeth. “Suck them,” she moaned. “Suck my nipples. Make me come.”
Taking one of the hardened tips between his lips, Casey sucked it hungrily, the taste of her, the passion that flowed from her, making him desperate for more as her fingers fisted in his hair to hold him closer.
That slick, wet silk surrounding the head of his cock, his hips moving as he ate at the tender tip of her nipple. Slowly, with precise gentleness, he began working his cock inside her, feeling the snug muscle and tissue as it parted beneath each slow, easy thrust.
Oh, God. It was like being buried, like being wrapped in pure, wild heat. Her juices eased between her flesh and his, another caress that made him ready to growl with pleasure. To snarl with the demand to come.
He’d be damned if he would let himself go that easily. If he would allow Sheila to go that easily.
He didn’t want to leave the hot, milking grasp of her pussy until he had no other choice. Pushing inside the liquid heat, slowly, working his cock inside the tender portal, he had to clench his teeth to keep from riding her hard and heavy and spilling his seed inside her.
His balls were drawn tight beneath the iron-hard shaft, his muscles locked tight against the ecstasy threatening to claim him.
With his dick encased inside her, his tongue playing erotic games with her nipples, Casey knew his control wouldn’t last much longer.
Her silken inner thighs caressed his flanks as her legs bent and clasped his hips. Her hips rolled against him with each thrust of his dick inside the searing depths of her pussy; each time he had to work his way past the tight muscles rather than slamming inside her.
Fuck, he wanted to ride her hard. He wanted to thrust fast and work inside her and feel her clenching on his cock, sucking his seed straight from his balls.
He wanted to fuck her with the inborn passion that he knew had only come when he touched Sheila. A hunger he’d never known before, and he knew it was a hunger he would never know for any other woman.
Giving a final lick to a cherry red nipple, Casey lifted his gaze to stare down at her.
Her head was thrown back, her hair spread around her like a dark blond halo. Small hands were clenched into fists, holding on to the sheets beneath her, her eyes staring up at him with a hunger that matched his own.
“Fuck me harder.” The words slipped past kiss-swollen lips. “I dare you, Casey. Fuck me like you mean it.”
For all the challenge in her voice, he also heard the love. A love Casey knew would last him until he took his final breath.
* * *
Sheila wanted to scream in pleasure. She wanted to beg, demand, and cry out with the sensations building inside the exquisitely sensitive muscles of her pussy.
Casey stretched her until he was certain she could take no more. He filled her, heated her pussy, and stroked inside it with a rhythm that was driving her insane.
She wanted more.
“Harder,” she gasped, her hands lifting from the sheets to grip his shoulders, her nails biting into the hard flesh and iron-hard muscles as his hips ground against hers.
He was teasing her. Pushing her higher. He was filling her with such incredible pleasure, sensations that sizzled across her nerve endings before speeding through her system and tightening every muscle in her body with the need to orgasm.
“It’s so good,” she moaned, nearly incoherent with the pleasure that burned inside her. “Oh God, Casey, I love you. I love you so much.” It was a plea. “Please let me come. Please, I can’t stand it any longer.”
Flames were building inside her, spreading outward, threatening to set the world ablaze if she didn’t find her release soon. She could feel the clenching around the flesh penetrating her, tightening and spasming as the swollen bud of her clit began to throb warningly.
“Yes,” she moaned. “Oh yes, Casey.” Neck arching, she felt it begin, felt it rushing through her, over her, tearing into her with a force that had her trying to scream as her orgasm began to detonate inside her.
Casey wasn’t but a second longer.
As he buried his cock to the hilt, Sheila felt the hard, fierce throb, the feel of the brief expansion, then the fierce, jetting spurts of his come shooting inside her.
His release mixed with hers, burned and melded until there was no longer just Casey, no longer just Sheila. Until the two of them were suddenly joined and made whole. Made one.
“I love you,” she cried out desperately. “Oh God, Casey, I love you.”
With his head buried at her neck, his arms wrapped around her, his very life pumping inside her, Casey whispered, “You’re my soul, Sheila. My home.”
His home.
As he was hers.
And together they were creating the dream Sheila had believed she would never know.
That dream of belonging.
DEADLY DANCE
CHEYENNE McCRAY
ONE
“Detective Adam Boyd, NYPD.” He held up his shield so that the woman could get a good look at it through her screen door. Her porch light was bright enough that she should be able to see it. He heard a dog barking at the back of the house.
She studied him for a moment. “What do you need, Detective?”
“Ms. Holliday,” he said. “I’d like a few words with you about Edward Carter.”
Through the mesh screen he saw Keri Holliday’s shadowy expression freeze. Given his intimate knowledge of this case, he was sure she wasn’t going to like what he had to tell her.
Hell, the news had hit him like a truck slamming into a concrete barrier. The instant burn in Adam’s gut had come with a wash of memories that could turn him into a killing machine rather than a levelheaded cop. The desire for revenge was so strong that it was all he could do not to hunt Carter down and empty his Glock into the sonofabitch’s chest.
During the pause between telling Keri he wanted to speak to her about Carter and when she finally opened the screen door, the March night wind picked up. The month was going out like a lion and the icy wind cut through the opening in his jacket, through his T-shirt, straight to his skin like claws.
In a good impression of chalk screeching across a blackboar
d, the screen door squeaked as she pushed it open, and he barely kept from wincing at the sound.
“Come in.” Keri stood aside so that he could enter the modest-looking Brooklyn Heights carriage home.
Like other carriage houses on the street, hers didn’t begin to look like it would go for the astronomical prices that were being asked for the homes. Adam lived in Brooklyn, too, but had a much less pricey Victorian in Kensington. Much less pricey.
As Adam started to take a step inside, his gaze met hers. For a moment he forgot why he was there. Something stirred in him, something beyond anything he’d ever felt before.
Seven years ago, the severity of an injury had kept him from interviewing her with his partner, Jerry. Adam would never have forgotten how beautiful Keri Holliday was. He could never forget a face like hers.
The room’s soft lighting touched her. Eyes the color of dark green jade. Long auburn hair drawn back in a ponytail, accenting her cheekbones. Lips that looked soft and warm.
The simple ponytail and the youthful freckles across the bridge of her nose didn’t take away from her natural elegance. She wore no makeup, her skin slightly pink as if she’d just washed her face.
He’d read in the file a couple of hours ago that she was a former ballerina, but he didn’t need that knowledge to see she was an athlete. Despite the early end to her career, she was slender and fit, her arms toned, her body lithe. It was easy to see that she had a dancer’s body beneath the simple jeans and black sweater with little pearl buttons.
According to Jerry’s notes, she’d been referred to as the “Angel of New York” and had been at the height of her career when things had gone very wrong for her.
At the same time he assessed her, thoughts hit him, crazy thoughts. Of kissing this angel’s soft lips … of his hands caressing the sensual lines of her body.
Well, damn. It was too soon after his breakup with Nyx to start feeling this way about another woman. Not to mention the fact he wasn’t there for any kind of social reason.
Tension crowded the air around them. The movement of her throat caught his attention as she swallowed. When he met her gaze again he saw recognition—recognition that something was passing between them and it wasn’t one-sided.
“This way, Detective.” Keri’s voice was low, throaty, like Kathleen Turner’s in that old movie, Romancing the Stone. Sexy as hell.
Adam gave a nod and shoved his hands into the pockets of his worn brown leather bomber jacket as she shut the door and led him past a set of stairs, down a short hallway, and into a living room.
The view he had as he walked behind her was spectacular. The most graceful walk he’d ever seen accompanied by gentle, elegant movements. Not to mention one hell of a nice ass.
She turned to face him. “Have a seat.”
He took the few steps necessary to make it to the love seat that she’d gestured to.
Cream-and-burgundy fabric covered the seat as well as the rest of the Queen Anne furnishings in the comfortable living room. He recognized the style of furniture thanks to his mother, who’d owned an antique shop. From the time he was just a kid until college, he’d worked at the shop during the summers as well as after school.
Adam sat on the edge of the love seat and waited for Keri to take the armchair across from him. When she was settled, he leaned forward, his forearms braced on his thighs.
“How did you find me?” she asked before he had a chance to speak.
“Through a friend who is former NYPD and now a private detective,” Adam said. “I would have eventually tracked you down, but she’s much faster than anyone on the police force.”
She nodded.
“Ms. Holliday—” he said.
“Keri.” She offered him a smile. “I’m a dance instructor and I get called Ms. Holliday all day as it is.”
He went straight for the bad news. He wasn’t into screwing around when it came to giving information like this. “I stopped by to let you know that this afternoon Edward Carter was released from prison.”
* * *
Keri stared at Detective Boyd, her mind and heart having come to a complete standstill. She couldn’t possibly have heard right.
“Edward was released from prison?” Each word she repeated was painful.
“Due to a technicality.” The detective’s expression was hard as he studied her. “Worst decision I have ever heard,” he continued. “Letter of the law police work wasn’t followed according to the judge, so he released Carter, saying he regrets the decision but he has to apply the law.”
He continued, “There was talk of a new trial, but the DA said the case was smashed with the ruling, suppressing evidence and essential testimony. So Carter is back on the streets.”
Keri heard Fred give several short barks from the back courtyard, as if expressing what she couldn’t get out. A denial that what the detective had just told her was true.
The detective gave a single nod. “Do you have someplace you can go for a while?”
“What?” Confusion followed the shock of hearing of Edward’s release and she felt her forehead wrinkle. “Why would I need someplace to go?”
“Your testimony is, in part, what helped lock the key on Carter’s prison door.” The detective dragged his hand down his face. “Considering his violent history toward you, as soon as I got word I thought I should let you know.”
For a moment Keri just stared at him. The memory of Edward’s threats years ago seemed to reverberate in her ears. “You’ll pay for this, bitch. One way or another you’ll pay.”
Sharp pain shot through her knee and she flinched. After what Edward had done to end her career, she had thought that was what he had meant by what he’d said—that he would hurt her again.
Detective Boyd flexed his hand and a muscle ticked in his jaw. He looked like he was getting ready to punch his fist through a wall. “Not only did he hurt you, but Carter had my partner, Jerry Marks, gunned down seven years ago. He was never tried for that, but we know he did it.”
Kerri sucked in her breath. “I remember Detective Marks. He spoke with me before the FBI did.”
Detective Boyd’s next words came out in a growl. “Jerry had a wife and three kids.”
The words hit as hard as learning of Edward’s release. Detective Boyd’s partner. A wife and three children left behind. More lives that Edward had ruined.
Fury burned her skin. Fury over what he had done to her. What he had done to this detective’s partner and his family. What he had done to countless people, including all the lives he had affected just by running drugs and pushing them. He had been the cause of ruined lives and probably more deaths than she had ever wanted to know about.
“It’s best if you get out of the house and find someplace to stay until we know you’re safe,” Detective Boyd was saying.
Keri struggled to move her thoughts from violence against Edward to attempting to regain focus on what the detective was saying and what steps she should take next.
Keri met the detective’s warm brown eyes. Eyes that just moments before his news had drawn her to him.
“Detective—” she started.
“Adam,” he said.
She nodded. “Adam, if I start running now, I’m letting Edward control my life,” she said. “It’s also unlikely he’ll find me. I moved after he went to jail and I get my mail at the post office. I don’t have anything delivered here.”
“If he wants to bad enough, he’ll be able to find you.” Adam was frowning. “Don’t forget that I had someone track you down.”
Keri frowned too. “I have my dance studio and my students, and I need to be available to my parents, especially my mom, who is in poor health,” she said. “What am I supposed to do about them?”
“We’ll figure that out,” Adam said. “Right now what we need to do is get you away from here.”
She paused for a moment. “I appreciate you taking the time, but I’ll be fine. I don�
�t think Edward is going to want to jeopardize his freedom.”
“I hope you’ll reconsider.” He stood and offered his hand.
She reached up and allowed him to help her to her feet. When he grasped her hand, Keri caught her breath. Incredible currents traveled between them. A zinging sensation went through her abdomen and her heart rate picked up.
His fingers were warm and callused, his grip strong. She had to look up at him to meet his eyes. At five-six, she was a little over average height and the detective had a good eight inches on her.
She drew her hand away and focused on not abandoning the important things in her life. “I can’t just leave.” She shook her head. “I can’t.” She straightened and took a deep breath. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”
“Be careful, Ms. Holliday—Keri,” he said. “We don’t know what to expect. He’s a dangerous man and you shouldn’t take any chances with him around.”
Keri tried not to think of her firsthand experiences as she gestured to the back door that led to the courtyard. “I carry Mace and I’ll keep Fred inside with me.”
Adam glanced in the direction she was pointing. “Your dog?”
She nodded. “Golden retriever. He’s a great watchdog.” She waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t. “How can I reach you?” she asked.
Adam brought out his wallet, with his detective’s shield on the top, and from it he withdrew a card. Keri reached for it, but it slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the floor.
At the same time, they both crouched to grab the card and bumped heads so hard that Keri fell back and landed on her butt.
With a laugh she rubbed her forehead. “So much for grace.”
He grinned as he stood and took her hand to help her up. “You okay?”
She nodded and he gave the card to her. It had the NYPD logo along with his badge number and contact information. “You can count on me keeping an eye on Carter,” Adam said. “As a precaution, lock every door and window. Pay attention to see if you’re being followed or watched. Call me if you notice anything that doesn’t seem right.”