“God, yes!” she gasped, arching her hips to try and sink him inside her, but he remained tantalizingly out of reach. “Please.” She’d never begged in her life, before Clint. Had never even come close. But there was something about him that made her greedy. Greedy and hot and so needy. Needy for him. “Please take me.”
No need to ask again. He groaned low in his throat and sank his cock into her inch by delicious inch until he was buried to the hilt. Then he held still, eyes locked with hers, body to body, soul to soul. Tara did her best to relax and enjoy it, but her passion was too great. She needed more. Demanded more. She began to move against him, grinding herself into him, seeking her release.
Clint withdrew almost completely and drove home again, his thrusts long and slow, over and over until she feared she might lose her mind with how good he felt. Tara dug her nails into his shoulders and her heels into his butt, urging him on, all the while kissing him, nuzzling his jaw, his neck, any place she could reach, unable to get enough of him.
He cupped her breast with one hand while bracing himself against the wall with the other, next to her head, angling his penetration to hit that tiny bundle of nerves inside her that made her whole body vibrate like a frigging tuning fork. She felt like she was alight inside, shimmering and glowing with exquisite sensation, so close to the edge yet still too far away.
It was so good. It was more than she’d ever expected. It would never be enough.
Then he slid his hand down and stroked her slick folds, causing her body to tighten even more and boom! Her pleasure exploded like the Fourth of July, sparks erupting like fireworks inside her body as he thrust harder, faster, deeper inside her, then went whipcord tight in her arms, coming hard and deep inside her as her body gently milked his.
When it was over and they’d both floated back down to earth, Clint carefully carried her over to the bed and collapsed atop it with her, their bodies still intimately connected. Finally he rolled away and went to the adjoining bathroom to clean up, then returned moments later to gather her into his arms, his gorgeous face more peaceful and relaxed than she’d ever seen it.
In the darkness, in each other’s arms, they both began to drift off to sleep, until the sound of shattering glass jarred Tara wide awake.
“HELP!” Ashley’s panicked scream had Clint scrambling off the bed to find his jeans. “Daddy! Help me!”
“Fuck!” He fumbled to get his pants on and headed for the door. “What the hell is happening?”
“Wait!” Tara called, not far behind him. She’d tugged on her yoga pants and was in the process of zipping up her hoodie, her mind still trying to process everything. She pointed toward the bottom of the bedroom door where ominous curls of black smoke were rising. “Fire!”
“Shit!” Clint rushed into the bathroom. She heard the tap running for a second, and then he was back, tossing a wet towel to her as he passed. “Wrap that around your face and stay here. I’m going to get my daughter!”
“I’m coming with you,” she said, running up behind him and hooking her finger through a belt loop on the back of his jeans as he opened the door. Good thing too, since she couldn’t see anything out in the hall. The towel helped keep the thick smoke out of her nose and mouth but did little to keep her eyes from watering. Soon, she couldn’t see anything through the haze of her tears. But she was surprised to realize that the air in the hallway didn’t feel hot. Was there not a fire after all? “What’s happening?”
“Smoke bomb!” Clint yelled through the shadows as he felt his way along the hallway to the bottom of the stairs. “Sweet pea? Honey?” he called through the toxic air as they slowly climbed upward. “Daddy’s here! Daddy’s coming! Can you yell to tell me where you are?”
“Daddy!” Ashley coughed and hacked. Smoke rose, so it was thicker in the air up here. The noise hurt Tara’s lungs just to hear it. “I can’t see you. I’m scared! Please help me!”
“I’m coming, honey. Daddy’s here!” The desperation in his tone tore at her heart and Tara did her best to keep up with him, knowing time was of the essence.
“We need to get her out of here,” Tara said. Her foot hit the wall and pain radiated up her leg. She cursed, stepping back slightly, the movement knocking her towel askew in the darkness. Smoke crept in to fill her nose and mouth and she started to cough uncontrollably, each breath only drawing in more of the noxious fumes. “Oh God. I…can’t…breathe.”
Clint vanished from her grasp and for a moment, Tara wondered if this was it. The end. Then he was back, his strong hand closing around hers. From the sound of whimpers close by, she could tell that he held his daughter in his other arm, leading them both down the stairs toward the living room and escape. The farther they got from Ashley’s room, the less smoke there was, until they were finally in the kitchen, where the air was clearer at last. Clint positioned them by a window which he yanked open, filling the room with cool night air.
Tara bent over, hands on her knees, sucking in great gulps of sweet oxygen, her throat burning and her mouth sticky from smoke. Clint too was coughing, his cheeks damp from his eyes watering. Poor Ashley had the worst of it, though, her breaths wheezing as she tried to get enough air into her lungs. “She needs to get to a hospital.”
“We all do,” Clint said. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called 911. “We need an ambulance please. There’s been a smoke bomb detonated in our home.” Clint gave the dispatcher the address and stayed on the line while they waited for the emergency vehicles to arrive.
Ashley was still having trouble breathing and Tara did her best to calm her, even though her own anxiety was through the roof. But she knew that losing her shit right now would help no one, least of all Ashley. “Hey, look at me, sweetie,” Tara said, meeting the little girl’s terrified blue eyes. “That’s it. Just focus on me and we’ll breathe together, okay. In and out. In, out. In, out. There you go.” Gradually, Ashley’s breathing grew less labored and Tara’s thundering pulse slowed to a less deadly level. Sirens wailed closer in the distance and Clint ceased his endless pacing. It was going to be okay. It had to be okay. Tara kept her gaze locked with Ashley’s. “Good. Good girl. Help’s here now and we’re going to be okay. I promise.”
Ashley threw her arms around Tara’s neck and held on for dear life and Tara hugged her tight, not wanting to let go. Not now. Maybe not ever.
14
The bustle of the ER did little to settle Tara’s nerves, but at least Ashley was doing better now.
Tara stayed by her bedside while Clint went out to call the guys from SSoF and talk to them about what had happened. While the doctor and nurses checked Ashley’s vitals again, Tara scrolled through her emails, her inner dread growing with each message that appeared from the board of directors. She’d emailed them to let them know what had happened, but since it was already rather late, she’d hoped that they wouldn’t see the message right away and that she wouldn’t have to deal with their replies until morning.
No such luck, apparently.
First was a message from Harrison, stating that the board was spooked by the event from earlier that night. No shit. Tara felt more than a little spooked herself. She swallowed hard, her throat still tender from the smoke, then clicked on a second email with her shaking finger. The rush of adrenaline that had flooded her system as they’d escaped the house had long since receded, leaving her feeling jittery and jumpy and oddly empty.
She didn’t mind putting herself in the line of fire for what she believed in, but it was another matter entirely to endanger those she cared about. Clint might have signed on for the danger when he’d agreed to be her bodyguard, but not Ashley.
Warily, she opened the second email, this one from Jacob Bartlet, and her heart sank even more. He was calling on the board to halt their public campaigning for the bill, saying that it could be putting all of them in danger, and damn if Harrison didn’t second the motion.
Well, crap.
Talk about an overreaction. There
was no need to kill the legislation. She typed in a quick response, telling Harrison and the rest of the board that, then hit Send. She didn’t have to wait long for a response. Her phone dinged just as the doctor was finishing up with Ashley.
“This is about more than your safety now,” Harrison wrote. “Someone tipped off the media, and what happened at your house tonight is all over the news. It’s become a publicity issue, Ms. Crumb.”
“But what if we can turn it to our advantage?” she fired back. “What if we can use this to fire up our base—show them how vital and important this issue really is?”
“No.” Harrison’s emailed response was short and sweet. “The board has reconsidered.”
Clint came in, rushing to his daughter’s side. “How’re you doing, sweetpea? The doctor says you’re going to be okay.”
“I’m thirsty, Daddy,” Ashley said, her little voice croaky as a bullfrog. “Can I have some water?”
“Sure thing.” He poured her a glass from the small pitcher on the bedside table and helped her sit up to drink it. Tara watched the scene, unable to stop thinking about the first night they’d spent at her house. Ashley had wanted water then too, but the times had been much happier.
No. Happier wasn’t quite the right word. Maybe less stressful.
Yeah. Definitely that.
Once his daughter was settled again, Clint came over to where Tara was sitting in the corner of the room and leaned his hips back against the wall. He looked as worn and exhausted as she felt. At least they were all okay. He scrubbed a hand over his face, then looked down at her. “I just talked to the guys at SSoF. The board of your non-profit called them. They want to bring them in to give an unbiased assessment of whether or not it’s safe for you to continue lobbying for the climate change bill.”
“But that’s ridiculous!” Tara sighed and threw her hands up in exasperation. “Nothing’s changed!”
Except everything had changed, hadn’t it? She stared across the room to where poor little Ashley looked far too small in that adult-size hospital bed. Her shoulders sagged and she hung her head. If only the kid wasn’t involved. But no. She stopped her thoughts short. No. God, why would she even think something like that? She knew what it was like to be Ashley. Hell, she was Ashley. When she was that age, she’d been the one in everyone’s way with everyone thinking she was nothing but a nuisance. Or at least, that was how she’d been made to feel. She refused to be like her mother. She refused to think of Ashley as a burden, regardless of what it cost her.
“They think you’re too close to the situation to see things clearly.” Clint placed his hand on Tara’s shoulder and gave a small squeeze that was probably meant to be reassuring, but right now all she felt was frustrated. And angry. Mainly at herself.
“Maybe I am.” She shrugged. “But if we can just catch whoever’s behind this, then that will solve the problem. Why don’t you have your guys at SSoF focus on that instead?”
Clint didn’t say anything, just stood there for a beat, then walked over to click on the TV. Grateful for the distraction, Tara did her best to focus on that and not the growing sick feeling inside her that her whole life was spinning out of control and she was powerless to stop it. The news was on and wouldn’t you know it, they were covering the story at her house. Perfect.
The volume was too low for her to hear over the bustle in the ER, but from reading the closed captions across the bottom, it was clear that they’d framed her as some progressive nut who only wanted free love and world peace. She rolled her eyes as she realized the TV was tuned to the conservative station, which had been railing against the legislation ever since it had first been proposed. Arms crossed, she scowled and continued to read the captions, now listing all the reasons why the bill wouldn’t pass. Too liberal. Too expensive. Too hard on local manufacturing.
Her frown deepened at that last one. Huh. Something clicked in her head and she pulled up her emails again, focusing on Jacob Bartlet’s. One of the reasons she’d never gotten along with him was the fact that his family business was one of the largest manufacturers in the area. Her suspicions grew and she started to wonder if he’d been the one to tip off the media, using them as leverage to pressure the board to make their support for the legislation drop. Maybe he’d even…no, he couldn’t be behind the attacks. Could he? She didn’t want to think it could be someone she actually knew, but they needed to consider every possibility, didn’t they?
“Hey,” she said to Clint, gesturing him over to see Bartlet’s bio page from his company’s website. “You should look into this guy. He’s on the board, but I feel like he’s just doing it for good press. I’m pretty sure he’s actually against the bill. And he was the first one to pipe up tonight, saying GGE should drop our public support of the legislation. Could he be the one behind all of this?”
“Maybe.” He gave an aggrieved sigh. “I’ll pass it on to Levon and Noah because, unfortunately, I’m not allowed to investigate any of this.” The words ground out like rocks in a blender, tinged with a level of frustration equal to Tara’s own. He pulled out his cell phone and called it in to the guys. When the call was done, he turned back to Tara, “The guys are gonna look into it.”
Tara glanced over at Ashley, who was thankfully otherwise occupied with the iPad one of the nurses had brought in for her to use. “Since you’re off the official investigation, maybe you and I should start an unofficial one ourselves, eh?”
At first Clint only blinked at her. But then as he seemed to consider the idea more, that small smile of his grew to a full-blown grin. “Maybe we should. That would keep me busy and keep you occupied, since the board won’t let you work on the campaign right now.”
“True enough,” she said, feeling lighter than she had all night. Tara stood and smiled. “Great. Then let’s get started, shall we?”
15
Clint sat outside the headquarters of Bartlet Manufacturing the next morning, determined to get to the bottom of who was behind these attacks before anyone else got hurt. It had been going on too long, and much as he hated to admit it, the slow progress was his own fault. He’d allowed himself to get distracted by Tara and Ashley and playing house with them. Yes, it was fun and way nicer than he’d expected, but that was no excuse for not getting the job done. It was time to get his head on straight and catch the bastard who’d tried to hurt Tara and his daughter.
First up, questioning Jacob Bartlet.
After running the gauntlet of security desk, receptionist, and administrative assistant, Clint was finally escorted back to a cushy corner office with lots of sunny windows and bookcases filled with pricey knickknacks that probably took the poor cleaning staff ages to dust each night.
“Mr. Bartlet,” Clint said, walking into the room with his hand extended. “Thank you for seeing me.”
The fifty-something guy behind the desk gave him a quick chin hike, then swiveled away in his leather executive chair to finish up the phone call he was on. Obviously dismissed, Clint lowered his hand and took the opportunity to look more closely at some of the framed photos hung on the walls. Most of them featured Bartlet hobnobbing with an assortment of powerful politicians and celebrities, grinning and glad-handing. Then there were also a few of Bartlet with women, all pretty and perfectly made up. Given that there was also a family portrait on the wall—Bartlet, a woman who seemed to be his wife, and three teenaged children—he wondered what the man’s wife thought of all the pictures with other women. He imagined being married to a man like that meant turning a blind eye to quite a lot.
“Mr. Buckman,” Bartlet said from behind him. “Sorry about that. Business takes no breaks, you know?” He got up and came around the desk to join Clint near the wall of photos. “What can I help you with today?”
“I had some questions about your past associations with Clean Futures Consortium,” Clint said, rounding on the guy. He was a few inches shorter than Clint, with greying hair slicked back and narrowed brown eyes. That suit he was wearing probab
ly cost more than a month’s rent for the SSoF offices. He took pleasure in the flicker of surprise across Bartlet’s face quickly morphing into uncomfortable wariness. Good. Let the bastard squirm a bit. “I mean, having associations with other organizations that support the same goals yours does isn’t unusual, but the fact that you’re so deeply involved with them is. I’d think Go Green Energy might consider that a conflict of interest.”
Bartlet’s dark brows drew together. “Oh well, not really.” He stepped back and returned to the desk. “I mean, environmentalism is a small world. Much smaller than people on the outside imagine. I don’t exchange confidential or proprietary information with anyone over there, if that’s what you mean.”
“Huh.” Clint took a seat in one of the chairs in front of Bartlet’s desk, his gaze pinning the other man in his seat. The guys at SSoF had emailed him all the dirt on this guy before the meeting. “It’s interesting you say that, because a former employee of Go Green Energy who now works for Clean Futures says he had lunch with you just last week, and you shared all sorts of things with him.”
“Really?” To his credit, Bartlet barely reacted. The only tell was a tiny muscle in his cheek twitching. “Who is that?”
“John Berger. He worked as an assistant to the former director of Go Green Energy. Started working with Tara Crumb too, before she let him go.”
“Oh. Tara.” Bartlet’s small, smarmy smile raised the hairs on the back of Clint’s neck, along with the same surge of alpha territorialism from earlier. This asshole had no right to even think about Tara, let alone react in that way when her name was mentioned.
Mine.
Clint shifted his weight and tamped those thoughts down fast. “Are you denying the meeting?”
Concentrate, dude. Stay focused on the task. Don’t get distracted now.
Bartlet snorted. “No. Not at all. I just think you’re taking the whole thing out of context. And John Berger is nothing to worry about. In fact, he was one of the best people working at GGE. I was honestly shocked when Tara laid him off. He knew that legislation inside and out and could’ve been a real asset to her in getting it passed. Took John quite a while to get back on his feet after he was let go so unfairly.” Bartlet sighed and tapped his fingers on his desk. “I’m not saying John Berger carried hurt feelings about it, but it did dent his reputation. Made it harder for him to get his next position. Maybe you should do a little more digging into him, while you’re at it.”
Protecting His Beautiful Lover: Southern Soldiers of Fortune Book Three Page 9