The Thief

Pulling back, she looked up at him. Then she had to touch his face, running her fingers over the tattoos on his temple, and his cheekbones, and his goatee. His diamond eyes were shining with a love so great, she was humbled and full of regret.

Why had they ever wasted the time they’d been given? Why had they lost track of each other at all? How could they have let that happen?

“V,” she cut in urgently. “I’m so sorry I got so wrapped up in my work—”

“What? What are you—no, I’m sorry I was a fucking asshole.” When she tried to speak again, he shook his head. “Can I kiss you again? Please, just let me—”

Without missing a beat, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled herself to his mouth, her heels lifting from the floor. Their mouths met once more and the sensation of soft on soft rocked her to her core.

“Please,” he groaned. “Please, I need you.”

She knew exactly what he was begging for, and she didn’t hesitate. Backing herself up until she felt the wall, she went for the waistband of her scrubs, loosening the bow and letting them fall to the floor. Her boots were a tougher sell on the whole get-off-me thing, but she managed to cross that finish line with the one on the left and kicked it across the Treasury. And that was all she needed to get half her bottoms off.

V took care of his own pant-problems, nearly ripping his fly open, and then she was back to hanging off of his neck and he was pulling her legs around his hips—

His penetration was so fast and deep she yelled. And then she didn’t know what the hell she did—and she didn’t care.

Vishous was dominating by nature, a force in the world that wasn’t to be denied. And he had sex in exactly that way: He pounded her furiously, his body clapping against hers, the structural integrity of the marble wall she’d put her back against the only reason they were still standing.

And even that was a “maybe” instead of a “definitely”: At the rate he was going, he was liable to fuck her right through the stone and out onto the lawn—and she loved it. She loved the near-violence, the knife-edge of pain, the sense that she had walked into the woods and found a snarling beast and laid herself down so it could take her.

He was the out-of-control that she otherwise didn’t let into her life. And she had missed this. She had missed him.

As she began to climax, the tears rolled down her face. The awareness that she had let this connection go made her panic—because what if she had lost it forever? What if she had ceased to exist in the middle of that road? Or worse…what if she had just kept going as she had been with work being the most important thing in her life and everything else slowly fading away.

And it was not just her. There were things Vishous had to work on, too. Things he was going to have to change.

Then again, true love required so much more than the boy-meets-girl stuff—and mutual attraction was the easy part: Life did not sit back politely and not interrupt the conversation between two souls united. It wasn’t a properly raised lady of leisure with a soft voice, ordering the staff to bring canapés for the hungry. No, it was more like a cocktail party of guests where some of them you were happy to welcome into your little clutch of two…and others were drunken frat boys who tripped, fell, and vomited on your collective feet.

Vishous eased up on the pumping. “You’re crying. Oh, fuck, I hurt you—”

“I’m just glad we’re together.” She sniffled as he wiped her tears with his thumbs. “And all I want is more of this.”

“Me, too.” He kissed her. “That’s what I want, too.”

The pain in his face, in those diamond eyes, was a window into the depths under all that cold, calculating intelligence, and she knew the vulnerability wasn’t something he showed even his Brothers. This was a gift to her, a testament to what he felt for her, the foundation of their relationship that thankfully hadn’t crumbled, but only been partially obscured for a short time.

“I left you,” she whispered. “I didn’t meant to, but I did.”

“I left you, too.” He shook his head. “I’m at fault—”

“No, you were home a lot of days when I was at the clinic—”

“When was the last time you came in and I didn’t have a drink in my hand?”

Jane opened her mouth. Shut it.

“Exactly,” he said as he brushed her hair back. “I’ve been drinking every second I wasn’t in the field since my mahmen hit the road. And even before that, with the war cranking up and the shit with Xcor, I was constantly the one volunteering to be on deck. I’ve been getting eaten alive by work, too. That is not just on you.”

“How do we make sure this doesn’t happen again?”

V rolled his hips, his sex sliding in and out of her and making her moan. “We stay connected. That’s how.”

She had to laugh. “I can live with that…”

As he started moving again, entering and retreating, entering and retreating, she tightened her legs around his backside.

“I can live for that,” she amended as they both began to orgasm.

THIRTY-TWO

Vitoria woke up as the car’s velocity changed, the steady hum of sixty-eight mph dropping in volume as Streeter decelerated to get off at an exit that read IROQUOIS MOUNTAIN RESERVE. Talk about a change in landscape. Gone was the crowded sprawl of Caldwell; in its place, there was nothing but snow and mountains.

No lights of inhabitation, no cars or trucks, nothing but miles of frigid wilderness.

The isolation was unexpectedly intimidating, reminding her of some of the remote places in Colombia that she never wanted to visit. Whether arctic tundra or rain forest, she was not one to venture too far off the beaten path, as it were. If their car broke down out here, for example, who would help them?

Streeter looked over at her, and his expression was remote. “You’re awake.”

“We are here. Why didn’t you rouse me?”

“You’re up now,” he muttered.

“What is wrong with you?” If he was not hardy enough to drive them this far on short notice, he was not going to fare well as her primary support. “What.”

“I just got a text from a buddy of mine. He works security for the gallery during after-hour shows.”

What a nice reminder he could read. “You shouldn’t be texting and driving.”

“Margot Fortescue was found dead in her house by her boyfriend.”

Vitoria made a show of frowning. “She’s that one who thought she was running things. Rather rude awakening I gave her today. What a pity.”

“She used to fuck your brother. Did you know that?”

“Which one. And watch your language, would you.” She unzipped her coat. Her gun was in there. “I am a lady. My ears are delicate.”

“Eduardo. She used to be with him.” Streeter glanced across the seats again. “Did you kill her?”

Arching a brow, Vitoria feigned a recoil. “Me? Dear God, what are you thinking? Of course not. Why would I care whether she was alive or dead?”

“Margot knew things. That’s all. I just wondered whether that shit—er, stuff, came up when you was talkin’ to her or something.”

“Not at all. I will admit that she doesn’t like me—well, didn’t like me. But it appears as if that will no longer be a problem. Not that it was much of one to begin with.” Vitoria sat forward as a sign entered the illumination field of the headlights. “We are getting close. Four miles. Do you know which way is south?”

“It’s the direction we came from.”

As they continued on, she stared out at the mountain that was peaking high above the tree line off in the distance. “Tell me, what kinds of things did Margot know?”

“ ’Bout this side of the business. She knew that there were other things being sold by your brothers. But I don’t think she knew deets.”

“And how did you find this out about her?”

“Two-Tone fucked her a couple of times. She made like she was on the inside track or some sh—stuff. He didn’t tell me no more than that.”