Aftershock (28 page)

Hungrier now, Lauren filled her plate and took a seat next to
Garrett. The table offered a spectacular view of the sunset.

Garrett seemed overwhelmed by the food choices, and distracted
by the constant movement in the room. Two young women in skimpy dresses drifted
by, catching his attention. In San Diego, undergarments were optional.

“Excuse me,” he said, rising to his feet.

She watched him from beneath lowered lashes as he crossed the
room. His tall, well-muscled form caused quite a few heads to turn, including
those of the braless young ladies. He skirted around them, approaching the
dessert table.

Lauren turned her gaze to the sunset, afraid he’d catch her
checking up on him. A moment later, he slid a slice of coconut cake in front of
her.

“Your favorite, right?”

“Yes,” she said, touched by his thoughtfulness.

His mother beamed.

She picked up her fork and took a bite.

“How is it?” he asked.

“Yummy,” she said, licking frosting from her lips.

After dinner, his parents made their excuses and said
good-night. She’d enjoyed meeting them but was eager to spend time alone with
Garrett. No longer inhibited by their presence, he leaned back in his chair and
stared at her openly.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” he asked.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Is your room next to your parents’?”

“It’s adjoining,” he said with a wince.

“Let’s go to my apartment.”

His eyes darkened at the bold suggestion, and she inhaled a
sharp breath of anticipation. “Okay,” he said.

The drive from the hotel to her apartment took longer than
usual. Most of the roadways had been repaired during the first few months after
the quake, but the areas near the epicenter were still under construction.

“Have you been back to the interchange?” he asked.

“No, it’s blocked off. Both freeways were rerouted.”

He nodded, staring out the window. His behavior had been
subdued, but she hadn’t expected him to be exuberant. It would take time for him
to process his surroundings. He’d have to get used to freedom and traffic
and...choices.

“We don’t have to do this, you know.”

She exited the freeway, giving him a quizzical glance. “What do
you mean?”

“There’s no rush. We can go slow.”

“Are you trying to get out of having sex with me?”

“No,” he said, smiling. “I just don’t think I deserve you.”

She smiled back, determined to convince him otherwise.

When they arrived at her parking garage, she was filled with
nervous energy. She got out of the car and took his hand, leading him down the
garden path toward her bungalow. It was a small apartment with a single bedroom.
Balboa Park was less than a mile away.

“My humble abode,” she said, tossing her purse on the
couch.

His eyes stayed glued on her. “It’s great.”

Laughing, she twined her arms around his neck. “Do you still
want to go slow?”

He answered her with a kiss, pressing her back to the wall.
Heat exploded between them. She’d spent the past six months dreaming about this
moment, longing for his touch. He threaded his hands through her hair and
groaned, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. His erection swelled against her
belly, hard and hot.

She ended the kiss, panting. Pushing him backward, she yanked
off her tank top and unhooked her bra. His throat worked in agitation as she
reached beneath her skirt to remove her thong panties.

The sight seemed to break his lustful stupor. He tried to
unbutton his shirt, but his hands were shaking. She did it for him, popping a
few buttons in her haste. Then his hair-roughened chest met her bare breasts,
and his mouth came down on hers, and nothing else mattered but this. His body,
her body. His heart beating in time with hers.

He unbuttoned his fly, fumbling with a condom.

“Hurry,” she said, tugging up her skirt.

Making a strangled sound of urgency, he lifted her against the
wall and filled her with one hot stroke. She gasped at the sensation, gripping
his strong shoulders. Her body accepted him easily, despite his size. It was all
she could do to hang on as he pounded into her, his buttocks flexing, pants
around his ankles.

His lack of finesse thrilled her down to the soul. He was so
wild for her, so hungry. When he let out a hoarse cry and stiffened against her,
burying his face in her neck, she felt like the most desired woman on earth.

“So much for going slow,” he said, short of breath.

She smiled as he put her down, watching him walk away to
dispose of the condom, hitching up his pants. When he returned, he drew her back
into his arms and carried her to the couch as if she weighed nothing.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sheepish.

“Don’t be.”

“I need to build up my stamina.”

“I’ll help you.”

He laughed, cupping his hand to her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Garrett.”

“This feels like a dream. I thought—” He swallowed hard, his
eyes shining. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“You were wrong.”

“I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

“We’re both lucky. Stop saying you don’t deserve me.”

“I don’t.”

She curled her arms around his neck, stroking the hair at his
nape. “I think you’re forgetting something important.”

“What?”

“I’m right,” she said, brushing her lips over his. “About
everything.”

“To infinity?”

“To infinity,” she agreed, melting against him.

* * * * *

Turn the page for an exclusive excerpt from Jill Sorenson’s next
romantic suspense
FREEFALL
Coming June 2013 only from
HQN Books

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A
T
NOON
,
THEY
WERE
READY
.
It was the hottest part of the day, near ninety
degrees on the rock face. A pleasant breeze drifted through the canyon. Sam took
the lead and Hope followed in his wake, steady as it goes. She spent ten minutes
on pitches that took him two. Although she was a fair climber, she couldn’t
match his speed. If she froze at the last stretch, they’d have to give up.

Not going to happen.

She strained toward the wall, searching for a new handgrip. The
tip of her boot rested on an overhang and her fingertips met a small fissure.
Heart racing, she flattened her belly against the smooth, sun-drenched rock.
Soaking up its spirit.

After a moment of communing with the climbing gods, she made
her way up. The final push went by in a blur. Before she knew it, she was
scrambling over the edge, with Sam’s help. They’d reached the summit.

She studied her surroundings, breathing hard. The top of Angel
Wings was jagged, with dips and crags, like the monolithic surface of a tooth.
She couldn’t see the remains of an airplane, but there were hints of its
trajectory. Burned-up bits of fuselage marred the landscape.

Sam pulled up their haul bag while she rested, trying to
recover.

Hope drank water and rose to her feet slowly. When she felt
confident with her balance, she took her gun out of her pack. “Stay here,” she
told Sam.

“What?”

“I’m going to check out the crash site.”

“I’ll come with you.”

She deliberated his offer. Sam could assist her in
search-and-rescue activities, not law enforcement. But what harm would it do? If
they encountered drug smugglers with automatic weapons, she wouldn’t try to make
arrests. This was a recon mission. “You have to take my lead, be quiet and stay
back when I tell you to.”

He agreed.

She walked across the uneven, pebble-strewn surface of the
crag, Sam following close behind.

Hope didn’t have much experience fighting crime. In her five
years as a peace officer, she’d drawn her weapon only a handful of times.

When the wreckage came into view, she paused. It appeared that
the plane had clipped the southwest corner of Angel Wings and broken up across
the surface. The majority of the fuselage was still intact. A figure was slumped
over in the pilot’s seat.

Although she assumed the man was dead, she approached with
caution. “We’re with search and rescue for Sequoia National Park,” she called
out, holding her weapon at her side. “Do you need help?”

No response.

She glanced at Sam, who looked tense. The sun was bright, but
the wind had picked up and the air was at least ten degrees cooler. Hope
shivered in her damp tank top. Motioning for him to stay back, she crept
forward.

The plane’s front windshield was broken. A man’s head came into
view, his face turned away from her, gray hair fluttering in the breeze.

“Sir?” she ventured.

Nothing.

She walked closer, glancing around for other victims. It didn’t
appear that any bodies had been thrown from the plane. When she was at an arm’s
length from the pilot, she reached inside to touch his shoulder. As she made the
contact, a black crow flew out the broken window, startling her.

Stifling a scream, she jumped backward and almost knocked Sam
off his feet. “I told you to stay over there.”

He didn’t answer. His horrified gaze was focused on the pilot.
Hope’s nudge had shifted the torso away from the dash. The lower half of his
face was obliterated. Blood-specked blue eyes stared sightlessly ahead.

Hope recoiled in shock.

Sam put his arm around her shoulders.

She turned her face to his chest, shaken. Sam was a jerk, but
his strength felt reassuring. His heart beat against her cheek,
alive alive alive.

“Do you think...that happened in the crash?” he asked.

Hope forced herself to take a better look. The pilot had
another wound in his chest, a small bullet hole. “No.”

Sam moved away from the wreckage with a shudder, keeping his
distance while Hope photographed the scene. Or maybe he was keeping watch. She
noticed his eyes scanning the mountains and trees nearby.

There were few clues inside the fuselage. She didn’t see any
illegal cargo or formal identification. A 9mm handgun lay on the floor next to
the pilot. She took pictures of the weapon and a pair of bullet holes on the
opposite side of the fuselage.

The pilot had returned fire.

She was about to report to headquarters when static buzzed over
the plane’s radio. Her heart seized at the sound of a man’s voice. “Del Norte,
come in.
Ya, contesta
.”

Hope rushed forward to pick up the receiver. Pulse racing, she
pressed the button to speak. “This is Ranger Banning of Sequoia National Park. I
need some information about this aircraft and pilot, over.”

The man ended the communication.

She replaced the receiver, her throat dry. Careful not to touch
anything else, she exited the fuselage.

“What was that?” Sam asked.

“Someone called on the plane’s radio. When I answered, they
hung up.”

“You answered?”

“Yes.”

He thrust a hand through his short hair. “Hell!”

“What?”

“I don’t like this. Let’s get out of here.”

Hope wasn’t a big fan of the situation, either. As far as she
knew, there had never been a murder at Sequoia National Park. It could be days
before a thorough investigation was organized. The logistics of processing a
crime scene on a remote mountaintop were dizzying.

They also had a killer to find. He must have left the area on
foot.

She walked away from the plane, examining their surroundings. A
hiking trail led down the back side of the mountain. It ended at the Kaweah
River campsite.

Where she’d dropped off her sister this morning.

ISBN: 9781460300343

Copyright © 2013 by Jill Sorenson

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