Chapter Twenty-Three
Tess shivered as the last evidence tech stomped out the front door in his heavy boots. “Thanks,” she called out, but he was already gone.
She stood in the middle of her living room absorbing the silence of her empty house.
Earlier, when it had become apparent the FBI wasn’t going anywhere for a while, she’d grabbed a hoodie to wear over her pajamas so she didn’t give a cold nipple display to every person on the DC law enforcement graveyard shift. Even now she couldn’t shake the chills that engulfed her in the aftermath of confronting that intruder and, worse, the look on Cole’s face when she’d told him she’d lied about their parents.
He’d been horrified and betrayed, and had turned that shock and anger on her. She deserved it, but she’d had solid reasons to shield him from the truth. Theirs was not a bloodline to brag about.
Now her emotions were stripped raw and bleeding and she wanted to run away and hide. But it turned out you couldn’t run from your past. It always found a way to track you down.
So what did she do now?
Dark smudges of fingerprint powder decorated her house like patches of black mold. The cable box by the TV said 1:15 AM and she should be exhausted, but the few hours of sleep she’d snatched had revived her and she felt wired rather than sleepy. Mac had left with his posse of avengers ten minutes ago, and hadn’t said goodbye. She’d overheard him tell them to head back to get some rest before the team meeting at eight.
It didn’t sound like they’d made much progress in finding Eddie or this killer.
She tried not to let Mac’s lack of goodbye bother her. He had better things to do and she was a job—she got that. A job who’d made him compromise his principles once already. Not that she intended to reveal that to anyone. There was a limit as to how much humiliation she could take and having to recount details of her sex life to the FBI crossed it.
But Mac didn’t know that.
His aloof tone and the way he’d withdrawn once the others had turned up had upset her. He was ashamed of what they’d done in that darkened motel room. She didn’t blame him, but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t hurt.
When her secrets exploded—and it wouldn’t be long until the media cottoned on to the links to the Pioneers and ferreted out hers and Cole’s new identities—she would be a public pariah. Mac wouldn’t come near her. Either her clients would stand by her as an innocent victim of circumstance, or they wouldn’t. She had no idea how high-minded principles and standing up for others against oppression translated when it came to the daughter of a white supremacist who’d promoted hate over love. Revolution over democracy.
She swallowed her unease. She’d move. Start afresh somewhere no one cared what her second name had once been.
Running away again.
Or she’d write a book about her experiences. Get her version of the truth out there, regardless of whether or not anyone actually believed it.
She might leave out her feelings for a certain federal official.
Cole now knew the worst. She still needed to ask him about that file with the judge’s photo in it but no way would she do that in front of the Feds—she owed him that much trust and loyalty. She knew her brother. Even the sulky, angry version she’d seen tonight. And she loved him.
That wasn’t blind trust. That was years of personal experience. Cole wasn’t a killer, nor would he help anyone with that much evil in their hearts.
She’d talk to him tomorrow, when he’d had time to calm down. If the Feds found some reason to search his house and they found that file—no matter the explanation—it would be game over for freedom until he could absolutely prove his innocence. That might take months.
She locked the back door and flicked off the kitchen lights. At the same time Mac stepped through the front door and she jolted in surprise.
“I thought you’d left already.” Her voice came out scratchy with suppressed emotion.
“I stayed back to make sure the evidence guy got everything he needed.”
She turned her head away, fighting tears, feeling ungrateful and immature and bitter. “Of course you did.”
He took a step toward her. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Like what?” Anger sparked like magnesium in water. Explosive and hot. She snapped her spine straight and raised her chin. “Like I’m nothing more than a suspect to be interrogated and picked apart and detailed like a science experiment? Do you have enough information for your report yet or would you like to break out the polygraph machine?” She advanced on him and started pushing him in the direction of the door. Every nerve was a fuse that had just been lit.
He let her back him all the way to the front door. God help her she wanted to lash out at someone, but he grabbed her arms, turned them both so she was the one pressed into the cold, hard wood. Her chest heaved as if she’d been running.
Light from the living room lamp shone behind him and allowed her to see his eyes—blue now like the shirt he wore. Dark in the shadows. The intensity there captivated her.
“I didn’t mean to make it sound as if what you needed didn’t matter,” he said patiently. “There will be an unmarked car out front by morning, and I’m talking to my boss about protective custody.”
A sudden prick of tears had her blinking rapidly, then swallowing the sharp ache of want. The touch of his hands on her arms, the musky scent of his skin made her wish for things she couldn’t have. She knew it was crazy, she knew logically that desiring this man would bring her nothing but heartache, but she wanted him anyway. She had a horrible feeling she’d never outgrow this version of her childhood crush.
“It’s fine. I’m sorry for snapping at you.” She tried to squirm out of his grip but he obviously didn’t trust her not to shove him again so he didn’t let go.
“Thanks for coming over. I’m okay now. You can go.” Her hands were trembling.
He lifted a finger and moved a tress of hair off her forehead. His expression changed, his eyes going warm. He pressed his lips together as if he didn’t quite know what to say to bridge all the things that stood between them.
She didn’t want his apology. She didn’t want his pity.
He took a half step closer and lowered his head toward hers. Her heart kicked against her ribs as she glanced up, startled. She held still, not daring to breathe.
He paused with his lips about a millimeter from her mouth, restraint evident in the tense lines around his eyes. “You scared the shit out of me with that phone call earlier.”
His breath brushed her lips. Her heart tried to escape the bars of its cage.
His grip tightened. “I thought you were going to die.”
She swallowed, never taking her eyes from his lips. Her blood fluttered in her veins like a thousand humming birds taking flight.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he told her. “You have a problem with that?”
She gave the slightest shake of her head—permission or acknowledgement, she wasn’t sure which. Then waited as he took forever to close that tiny gap.
For some strange reason, she’d imagined it would be a gentle kiss, a restrained, polite peck, like the one they’d shared outside the cabin when Henry Jessop had been watching. A light caress like the glancing stroke of a feather. But there was nothing tentative about this kiss.
When his lips finally met hers, his tongue slipped along the seam of her mouth like he owned her. It was as if he was done thinking, done waiting. Her hands were trapped between their bodies as he stepped between her legs, pressing ever closer. Her mouth dropped open on a shocked gasp at the feel of his hardness pressing against her core. His tongue explored the texture and taste of her mouth, as if he was imprinting on her flavor.
He tasted like coffee and strength and sin.
The fire in her veins ignited and made her forget why she’d been so angry with him just moments earlier. He kept kissing her, urging her to kiss him back with such determined focus she finally let go and melted against him. He shifted her hands to either side of her body and moved closer so his large powerful body was flush against hers, his arousal rigid against her stomach.
He angled her chin, taking the kiss deeper, tangling his tongue with hers. His fingers held her mouth still when she tried to move away, to pull back and breathe. Those strong fingers told her no way was he ready to break this kiss yet.
Who needed air?
His other hand worked its way under the layers of her clothes to find her hip, then he hesitated as if deciding which direction to explore next. He chose up, stroking his thumb over her stomach, fingers skimming her waist, then tracing the bumps of her ribs, until gently cradling the soft weight of her breast. Her toes curled and, after being so cold earlier, heat now poured off her skin.
She rose to tiptoes, pressing against him in a way that revealed exactly how hungry she was for him. His touch gentled, calloused fingers reverently caressing her sensitive flesh.
It reminded her that long before he’d been a rough, tough FBI agent, he’d been a cowboy who’d soothed a terrified colt with infinite patience and compassionate determination. No wonder all the girls in the compound had been in love with him.
His thumb and forefinger found her nipple and rolled the tip, pinching just hard enough to bring her back to the moment and make her moan. Need filled her. Desire exploded as she moved against him, creating a delicious friction that reminded her he’d already demonstrated sex wouldn’t be all promise and no payoff.
She wanted him. She didn’t care about the million reasons they shouldn’t be doing this. She was sick of always trying to stay in the background and not stand out, of being the nice girl, the pitied girl, the one who got ignored or screwed over and dumped for a best friend who declared herself a sex goddess.
This time she wanted to be the goddamned sex goddess.
She knew what this was. Physical. Temporary. There were no illusions about love or Happily Ever After with her Prince Charming. A small part of her heart had always belonged to Steve McKenzie and his alter ego who’d saved her all those years ago. She didn’t kid herself he’d ever love her back. She wasn’t that much of a masochist.
But she didn’t want to regret not having the nerve to go after what she wanted while she had the chance. She wanted Steve McKenzie. All of him. And if he was going to bail on her halfway through she wanted to know now, before she was humiliated and shamed by the power of her desire for him.
She reached for his belt and he went tense even as his fingers tortured her aching nipple and his mouth devoured hers. She ran her palm over the front of his pants and wrapped her hand around his thick length and moaned her approval. Then he let go of her jaw to ease down her pajama bottoms and she kicked them aside. Then she unzipped her hoodie, dragging it off and tugging the top over her head so she stood there completely naked except for the numerical tattoo that wrapped around her arm in a symbolic blue snake.
“You’re beautiful.” His eyes went dark, a muscle bouncing in his jaw. He started to say something else but she leaned up and took his mouth with hers.
She’d loved this man as a child. Now she desired him as a woman. For once his badge and gun didn’t matter. She wanted him, and he wanted her, too.
He leaned back, dragging in a deep breath, cupped her breast as he teased one pink peak with his thumb, watching it contract and bead as if begging for attention. He stared fascinated, his fingers dark against her pale skin. “Pretty.”
Watching the desire on his face as he touched her was almost as arousing as the contact itself. He switched sides, playing with her as if he had all the time in the world to strum her body into a fine pitch of desire. The pleasure he evoked from her breasts tugged sharply between her legs.
As if suddenly hot he shrugged out of his suit jacket, dropping it to the floor, and then flipping the deadbolt on the door behind her with a flick of his wrist. The sound echoed through the house like a gunshot. They weren’t stopping. There was no going back.
She eased down his zipper and his erection jutted out of his boxers. She caressed the long, thick length of him, wrapping her fingers around the velvet skin that covered steel beneath. He closed his eyes, bracing his hands on the door behind her.
She undid his tie and slid the smooth silk out of his collar before letting it fall to the floor. She undid the buttons of his shirt, revealing broad shoulders and a thickly muscled chest, lightly sprinkled with brown hair. He took a moment to undo the shirt cuffs, his gaze never leaving hers as he tossed the garment aside. He kicked off his shoes and socks, and stepped out of his pants. He nudged her legs apart and skimmed the short hair nestled at the apex of her thighs. She tensed as he slowly ran a finger over her clit, and down, easing between folds to the wet slit at her center, before sliding inside her moist heat in a long, firm stroke.
She went up on her toes as he curled a finger inside her. She clutched at his shoulders as he withdrew and followed the same route over and over again until her hips unconsciously followed his hand and she whimpered with need.
Her skin was sensitized and her arousal growing and expanding until all she could think of was the need to have him inside her.
His tongue stroked the hollow of her collar bone. One hand pressed inside her, the palm putting pressure on her clit with every inward stroke, he kept a languorous rhythm that made her whole-body shake. His mouth moved lower, seeking out her nipple and sucking hard when he found it. Her knees trembled.
She sank her fingers into his hair. “Please tell me you have a condom.”
He stepped back, drew in a deep breath and leaned down to scoop up his pants and pull his wallet out of his back pocket. He handed it to her and went back to teasing her body, searching out all the places that made her quiver and ache. She found a square package next to the dollar bills and let the wallet drop from her fingers.
She sheathed him carefully, caressing his hot length as she protected them both.
He grabbed her wrists. His jaw was tense, eyes narrow as they met hers. They both knew they shouldn’t be doing this. It was bad for his career. Dangerous to her heart. But no one would ever have to know. She could be his dirty, little secret.
She wanted him so badly, her body was throbbing with need. She had the horrible feeling she’d beg if he changed his mind this time.
Instead of backing away, he lifted her up until both her legs wrapped around his waist and he positioned himself against her entrance. Then he held both her hands against the door and stared deep into her eyes as he pushed slowly inside. Her head went back as she cried out and her back arched.
She went blind as pleasure rushed through her.
He dropped her hands and grabbed her ass. She gripped his shoulders as he eased farther inside. Sweat beaded on his brow and ran down his temple. She tasted it on her tongue.
With one last push, he was imbedded and Tess sucked in air as she got used to the sensation. He was big and she had never had sex against a wall before.
He seemed to realize she needed a moment, or maybe he did, too. It took a few seconds to get used to being so full and her muscles rippled around him. Not that she was complaining. Her body quivered at the wonderful feeling. Sex had always been plain vanilla. Horizontal and quick. After a few seconds, she deliberately clenched her muscles around him again and he growled his approval. He started moving then, pumping in and out of her in long, deep strokes.
Dear Lord. It felt like Heaven. She whimpered at the pleasure that was flooding her senses. Every muscle in her body was trembling with need to race to that sharp edge of completion, but she wanted it to last, too. She wanted to go slow. And fast. And everywhere in-between. Mac changed his stance and she felt him inside her, touching a place that made her insane with want.
“Oh, God.” Her nails raked his shoulders as her body clenched around him. She wanted to be the girl from her fantasies, the one who asked for and got what she wanted. “More.”
“Is this what you wanted?” He drove into her over and over, holding onto her and thrusting deep at the same time.
“Yes.” She gasped. “This is what I want. You inside me. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
His full body shiver told her he liked what she was saying, and he delivered more in spades. She bit her lip, ankles crossed behind his back, thighs desperately clinging to his hips. Her climax took her by surprise. It burst through her like an explosion of light. She cried out, sobbing, pleasure bursting through her as something inside her shattered.
He stilled against her and her fingers dug into the muscles on his back but she no longer had the strength to hold herself up.
She didn’t want it to be over. She didn’t want him to go.
Disguising the fact that emotions were about to get the better of her, she went with humor. “I hereby declare you a sex god.”
He laughed and it rumbled through his chest all the way inside her.
“We’re not finished yet,” he murmured.
She shivered despite the heat coming off his body. He was like a furnace and she wanted him naked beneath her, behind her, on top of her. She wanted to do everything she’d ever read about with this man. To explore and exploit. Tease and torment. Feel nothing but pleasure. He wouldn’t leave her dissatisfied. He’d laugh and give her whatever she wanted. For tonight anyway.
She started to slip and he grabbed her by the ass, walking them into the kitchen.
* * *
The cops and FBI agents had all left with the exception of one. What was he still doing here? How many questions could he have? What could ignorant little Tess Fallon be telling the guy that took so freaking long?
Poor little Tess had disturbed an intruder. Eddie? She frowned. She wished she knew where he was and why he’d escaped. Was he hoping to steal the glory for himself? After all her years of sacrifice? But then, despite what her father had thought of him, Eddie Hines had always been a bit of an asshole. He’d probably hid in a cupboard while David had fought for his life. David had been planning to get rid of Francis, but had to do it cautiously as the land was in her name.
The bitch had bound him to her with dirt.
She took a chance and sneaked around the back of Tess Fallon’s property, avoiding the house with the noisy dog, staying far enough in the shadows not to be seen. There was a light on somewhere in the Fallon house and it filtered through enough for her to find her target with her binoculars. The lenses steamed up.
Her brows rose in time with her smile.
My, my, my, ASAC McKenzie, what big…hands…you have. And he obviously knew what to do with them if the rapturous look on Tess Fallon’s face was anything to go by.
This was so perfect it was almost too good to be true. She mulled over the timing as she watched the two animals rut. Let them enjoy the moment. She smiled. Reality was about to crash down all too soon.
Half a block away she pulled out a new burner and dialed another number she’d memorized. “It’s time. You have to do it right now. Right this minute.”
She heard him swallow and his uncertainty crackled down the line.
“Okay…”
She frowned. They couldn’t afford a mistake. “Can you carry this out, or should I do it?” She wasn’t sure she had time, but she’d make time. It was vital to their operation. Getting rid of McKenzie would take the heat off them long enough to get the job done. After that she didn’t care what happened.
“I can do it,” he said.
She stared up at the stars and thought of her father. What would he have said?
“I know you can. I have faith in you.” That was the closest she’d ever come to saying “I love you.” She thought about McKenzie and Tess feasting on one another. “You have an hour, maybe two but…” she told him what to do when he got there, then hesitated. What did you say in situations like this? “Don’t get caught.”
He laughed but there was a bitterness in his tone she hadn’t heard before.
“Nothing gets in the way of the mission. Roger that.” He’d heard about the old man and was pissed she hadn’t called him to commiserate. Embers of anger burned inside her. Sentimentality was for fools and they’d grieve when this was over.
Tess Fallon and Steve McKenzie had somehow been involved in Jessop’s demise and she intended to make them pay. She ditched the burner in a trashcan. Tossed the SIM card in the brush.
Now she needed an alibi.