Convicted (Entangled Ignite) (15 page)

“I needed you!” she snapped. “I was losing myself in this place, all right? Losing why I left this life behind. But when I was with you, I could finally fucking breathe and I couldn’t let that go!”

Cade rocked back on his heels, but all Katrina could do was turn her face toward the back of the couch, dangerously close to tears. She fucking hated crying. It solved nothing and made her feel weak. Manipulative. All things she’d been and she refused to be again.

Brutally long seconds passed while she steeled herself for more of his anger. Let him give it to her. He was alive.
Nothing
else mattered. Not her injuries, not his pride, not even the fact that she’d bared herself and he hadn’t given a shit. He was here.

“Does it hurt to breathe?” he asked whole minutes later, his voice a soft rumble.

“Not really.” Especially not when his hands slid carefully over her skin again. Soothingly. She didn’t dare allow herself to think apologetically.

He gently applied pressure, searching her ribs, her belly, her hips. He found the still burning bullet graze above her hip and began to clean it. Exhaustion—physical and emotional—draped over her in the silence. She let it drift her away, just a little. It was easier to close her eyes and let her imagination lead to better reasons for his hands to be on her, to pretend his touch had nothing to do with injuries. That he was running his palm up and down the slope of her hip. Making those little circles on her back. Right about to run his lips over her skin…

“Trina, you’re wandering.” Cade’s gruff voice interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to her current dilemma. Oh yeah. Sliced up. Beat up. On the run. Hopelessly wanting an angry man that didn’t trust her and had no damn reason to.

In other words, royally fucked.

“Just thinking.” She sighed sleepily, shifting to look at him again. The past could be a lovely place, she decided. You could edit out all the things you didn’t want to think about and concentrate on the best parts. Those times she’d run into him near the station. In town. At his house. On the lonely mountain road… Just the thought of that last one was enough to make her squirm, a problem she was already fighting under the feel of his coolly professional touches.

He wasn’t stroking her the way he had that day. Wasn’t running his hands over her breasts, squeezing them as if he were claiming them for Spain or something. Or cupping her neck to lift her off the hood of his car to devour her mouth in a kiss that had set her on fire like nothing else ever had. He certainly wasn’t grasping her hips, pulling as he drove into her until she thought he might as well just move in there for the rest of their lives.

But if he wanted to, she might just weep in relief.

Cade yanked off his gloves with a vicious snap of latex. “You keep thinking like that and I’m not going to be responsible for my actions.”

Katrina lifted both brows in surprise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re doing that purring thing and you’re making me fucking nuts.”

Ah yes, the purring. He’d liked that well enough when he had his cock halfway down her throat, hadn’t he?

“Hey, the abstinence thing was your idea, Mr. My-Way-Or-The-Highway. I had every intention of satisfying all your sexual fantasies and even a few things you haven’t thought up yet.”

Anything but letting him love her.

Something he seemed to remember, too. “My fantasies didn’t include taking you to jail because you didn’t want to quit working for Carter.”

She refused to let his bitterness win that argument. “Oh, we both know you can’t wait to get me in your cuffs.”

He closed his eyes—Cade-speak for needing five desperate seconds to get his control back. If she were at her usual strength, she’d steal one of his mind-blowing kisses, the kind he only gave when she’d pushed him completely out of his reserves.

It was the only way to reach past those walls of his to unearth the complicated puzzle he tried so hard to hide. The proud staff sergeant who’d left behind fifteen years of service but not the dedication to protect. The powerful lover who made her feel delicate and sensual instead of crass and ball-busting. The lonely man who’d lost his foundation and so badly needed a place to put down his roots. He had secrets, too, once she’d gotten him talking during those hard-won conversations. Somehow, he’d sneaked most of her secrets out as well.

He was right, she acknowledged. She shouldn’t have done it. She shouldn’t have kept pushing him to let her in. Because every time she broke past one barrier, the lies she’d had to tell him afterward cut deeper into her heart. That’s what happened when you lied to the man you loved.

When you betrayed him.

“Did I hurt you too much?”

“What?” She looked at him, having completely forgotten about the fact that he was treating her wound. A quick glance to her hip, where a neat bandage covered the small graze, and she realized he was already done. His hand rested on her waist, as natural as if he always had it there. She almost slid her own hand over it, wanting to hold him in place, but she knew he’d pull away. Even now that she was telling him the truth. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” His thumb slid back and forth in a soothing rub, making her belly quiver with the needs that always floated just below the surface when he was near. Every bone in her body could be broken and she’d still ache to wrap herself around him. How could she want him—need him—so much, knowing he might still walk away from her? She’d never been so weak in her life and if she were smart, she’d slap herself out of it.

The thing that got her was that he didn’t seem to know it.

“Then I guess it’s time to get you out of those clothes.”

Chapter Twelve

“God, you say the sexiest things. Quick, say something else fun. How about,
Grab your ankles, I’m coming in for a landing.
” Trina’s slow, dirty grin did terrible things to Cade’s self-control. She was always like this, making every little thing into something sexual, something that tempted him to laugh. Though he had to admit, he’d walked right into that one.

“Your clothes have blood on them and they’re cut up. Besides, I need to check you for any other injuries.”

“Aww, come on, Cade. You’re missing the point of the game. Hot to trot damsel-in-distress—”

“With bruised ribs.”

“—alone in a mountain cabin with inexplicably single sex god—”

“Hardly.” There were plenty of explanations and she knew almost all of them.

“Since I’m the only one of us who’s had sex with you, I don’t think you get a vote.”

He was not going to give her the smile she was hunting. He couldn’t allow it. Trina collected his moments of weakness like a kid after baseball cards. Once they were hers, she cashed them in for pieces of his soul. He simply didn’t have enough left to play her games.

On the other hand, if she wanted to call him a sex god, who was he to argue?

“I’ll get you something to sleep in. While I do that, how about you get back to telling me what happened?”

He got up off his knees, distancing himself from all that beautiful skin across her belly by heading to his chest of drawers on the other side of his bed, as many feet from her as the one-room cabin would allow. Bruised or not, he’d never seen anything as tempting as her in his life.

“It’s pretty simple, really. Carter has a delivery service up and down California. His crews pick up shipments of cocaine in Tijuana, drive it up the Grapevine, and drop it in Fresno for wider distribution. I was part of an infiltration team that fed into three different MCs in California. It was specialized, each of us hand-picked because of our backgrounds and connections to established clubs. Undercover as ourselves. Of the five of us, one has retired and the other three are dead.

“None of us managed to get enough evidence to knock out the main buyer pulling their strings. Or even find out who it is. We have our suspicions, but no physical proof. My old partner cut off a major supplier last year, but he got made in the process and there were others just waiting to take the supplier’s place. All I know about the current ones is that they’re Colombian and about ten times more willing to kill than the last guy’s men.

“I was this close to getting what we needed, and now there’s no way it can happen. If anyone from Wheels of Pain finds me before I can reach my handler, I’m dead.”

“You’re skipping something.” She had no trouble staring Carter in the eye as she lied to him—he’d seen her do it—but for some reason, she couldn’t do it with him. It meant something that she almost never looked him in the eye. Until now.

“Your department is corrupt.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” He heard Trina shifting uncomfortably on the couch. She was too long-legged for it. Plus those cushions could support the Washington Monument without denting. No, she wouldn’t be able to sleep there and neither could he. She’d have to share the bed with him.

A pulse of dangerous elation danced through his veins.

What if she really were being truly honest with him? What if… What if there actually was a chance for them?

From the start, she’d made him wish he could be different. That he was still the guy who wanted to change the world and save lives. The one who laughed easily and trusted the world to be black and white. That guy had died with so many others, thousands of miles from here, under a killing sun that never seemed to set, in sands that never satisfied its thirst for blood. Somehow, he found himself somewhere in the middle now. If her story was true, if he could trust her enough to believe in her one more time, maybe she could meet him there.

Or, you’re jumping through hoops to justify sleeping with her again…

He couldn’t argue with that, either. He wouldn’t be fooling anyone if he told himself he wasn’t mentally doing backflips to have her in his bed again, in his arms, holding her all night long. But if he was going to live that fantasy, shouldn’t he go all the way with it?

He turned to the closet, pulling open the doors where he’d put stuff he didn’t need in Marketta. Under thin plastic, uniforms he’d never wear again waited like specters. He pulled a dress shirt out, the snowy white fabric sliding across his fingers like cool water. It would fit over her lush curves with room to spare, probably covering her at least to mid thigh. His best imaginings starred her in his uniform shirts, a button or two giving little more than lip service between the high globes of her breasts. Those tiny silk panties of hers playing peekaboo with every step she took.

If he gave her this to wear, his cock would turn to fucking stone with no relief in sight. Just hours and hours of unrelenting sexual torment until he could safely get her out of here.

He stole a quick glance at her, all that ebony hair flowing like ink over the arm of his couch, her lean body encased in dirty white leather, the toes of her matching boots pointing up as she stretched her legs with a wince.

I’m a fucking masochist.

It wasn’t anything he didn’t already know about himself. He gripped the shirt in a stranglehold and headed back her way. “You need help sitting up?”

She grimaced as he knelt beside her again, but shook her head, already lowering her legs to the ground. Biting off a curse, Cade fit his hand to her back, supporting her regardless of her grudging acceptance. She never liked help. He never gave a shit. He considered it one of the better quirks to their relationship.

Trina took a careful breath while he held his in anticipation that she could do it. The air came in and went out without any hitches. “See? It was just running up this mountain of yours that made it so bad.”

“You still haven’t said why you had to come here.” He didn’t care how many deflections she threw out there or how pissed he was that she might actually be telling the truth now, after all this wasted time. He could play being calm, knowing every second of it was keeping her off balance enough to keep giving him the truth. No matter what, he wasn’t letting her get away without answers.

“Shana.” Trina began shrugging out of her coat, her coordination stilted.

Impatient, Cade helped her push her jacket off her shoulders, letting it fall to the cushions behind her. Next he moved to the open sides of her blouse. “She’s off with that Daniel guy you trust so much.”

“Daniel is the retired agent I told you about.” The knowing curve to her lips only partially soothed him. “I trust him with my life, not my body.”

Which didn’t say anything about her heart, did it?

“Doesn’t mean I have to like him. Did Carter find her?”

“No, but I’m starting to think there might be more on that flash drive than Shana thought. He’s more than desperate. He’s terrified.” Trina bit back a hiss at lifting her arms to peel the shirt over her head. Her bra, a pretty blue silky thing, seemed more functional than flirtatious with straps that angled behind her neck instead of looping over her shoulders. Sexy without even trying. Perfectly Trina. He decided Peek-a-
Blue
could be a wickedly satisfying game for the rest of the night.

“I’ve been so locked down, I’m essentially flying blind right now. My last update with Daniel was that they were still trying to crack the encryption on the files, but that was early last week. Frank does know I had something to do with her getting away. In fact, he seems to know everything I was doing. My only guess is that he dug hard enough that someone in your department must have cracked.” Trina’s disgust gave way to her sigh of relief to have the constricting clothing off.

In just her bra, she sank against the cement-like cushions as if they were silk pillows. Dark bruises marred her upper arms, clearly caused by the grip of men’s hands. Smears of tiny blood vessels crushed under heavy pressure. An array of contusions spread over her ribs and chest, scratches and more dark fingerprints lined the side of her neck. His gaze tracked one injury to the next, all the way down to her red, swollen knuckles, where purplish marks had begun to form on the scuffed joints and dark brown blood crusted her fingernails. He immediately grabbed another towelette to wash it off, but every stroke just made the truth clearer. She’d put up the fight of her life tonight.

And he hadn’t been there to help her.

Fire licked in his belly. Rage ignited, like a dragon waking in the depths of him, sizzling away any doubts about her story or what had to be done.

“Who?” He’d snap the necks of every single one of those malignant bastards. Every. Single. One.

Heavy lashes lifted and her blue eyes peered at him from beneath them. She seemed to be taking in his rigid posture or maybe she could just feel the homicidal waves rolling off him. “Cade?”

“Tell me who did this to you. I know it wasn’t just Frank.”

She sat up again, elbows on her knees. “Look at me.”

“I am.” And seeing more and more reasons to simply end every single one of those fuckers. But the ones who touched her, who’d violated her, they were going to die slow. Broken. Begging…

Her hands rose to cup his jaw, squaring her face right in his line of vision. “Look at me. Look in my eyes. I’m here. I’m fine.”

“You’re not—”

“I’m
fine
. I’m alive and believe me, I can take care of myself. I already handled it.”

“They’re dead? All of them?”

Her gaze slid away. “One for sure. I’m not sure about the second one, but I doubt he has any teeth left. As for Frank—”

He didn’t want to hear that evasion. “Carter’s still alive or you wouldn’t have worried about bringing your bike up here.”

She nodded. “I did shoot him, if that makes you feel any better.”

“There’s more than one place to shoot a man.” And he knew all the ones that hurt the most.

“Killing him isn’t going to change anything, Cade.” It wouldn’t make him pay for his crimes.

“I’m not killing anyone. I’m just going to shoot him several times. If he dies, that’s his fault.”

Her lips quirked. “Not sure you’ll get that one past a court of law.”

“Good thing they’ll never know about it then.” Frank Carter would disappear and all his men with him. No one on the planet would miss them, either.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” She let him go, her hands fumbling between her breasts for half a second before the straining blue material popped open and she peeled it away.

His brain stopped short.

Full, round globes, just the right size for his hands, each one topped by pale pink tips, completely derailed his thought processes.

“Now that we have
that
settled,” she growled, pulling the fabric closed again and reaching for the shirt he’d dropped in his haste to reach for her. “Gimme the goddamn shirt.”

Damn it, his hands were empty, his fucking sweatpants were strangling him, and those fabulous breasts were covered under the folds of his own shirt. He glared at her. “That was cruel.”

She smirked as she tightened her hold on the crisp cotton. “My tits, my rules.”

Well, they’d just see what she said when she found out her
ass
belonged to him.

“You ready to be rational about this?”

“No.”

She dragged her hands through that thick mane of hair. “Damn it, Cade—”

“Fine. I’ll be rational.” But he wasn’t going to promise for how long.

“No, you won’t. I can see it all over your face. I need you with
me
right now, so we can get out of this mess alive.” She reached down, rolling down the fabric on her sliced leather pants while her feet toed off her boots. After kicking them away, she stood, her hips lining right up with his face. A few quick shimmies of her hips, and her pants were gone.

What little of them there was. Blue cotton swathed between strong thighs, cupping the flesh he could almost taste. It connected to a string at the top that wrapped delicately around her hips, dipping slightly beneath the faint rise of her belly. He’d licked her there before. Sucked her flesh like ripe fruit and craved it every day since.

He looked up when she put her hand on his shoulder to maintain her balance as she kicked off the pants. Did she sway toward him, the mound of her sex nearly brushing his lips?

“I take it back. You’re not cruel. You’re evil.”

“Of course I am.” Her wide grin was back, self-satisfied and tempting as hell. Why did this woman consider things like that a compliment? “I also taste like ripe strawberries, but you’re not interested in another taste, remember?”

“No.” He rumbled the word slowly, his hands sliding up those long, long legs to grasp her hips, holding them right where he wanted. His thumbs hooked under the thin waistband. It’d be so easy to snap them right off her. Or brush that scrap of fabric to the side and reacquaint her with the swirling strokes of his tongue over her clit. Between the dewy folds of her sweet sex. Deep into the well of her pussy. He knew the taste of her better than any flavor in the world. Some nights he swore he’d give anything to have her flavor in his mouth again. “You taste like honey. Dark, earthy honey.”

A rich and heady flavor he’d remember for the rest of his life. The nectar had been so abundant he got to lick it over and over again. Addictive enough that she’d had to pry him off after her third orgasm because he couldn’t get enough of her.

He heard her shaky intake of breath. “I thought you didn’t want to have sex with me anymore.”

“Sweetheart, all I ever want is to have sex with you, that’s the problem.” He guided her back into a sitting position on the couch. She was just confused enough not to argue with him. He couldn’t take his hands off her bare legs, though, smoothing them up and down her thighs, cupping the back of her knees before sliding back up to start the circuit all over again. “Finish what you’re going to tell me before I decide not to give a shit about anything but having you.”

She should have pushed him away. She should have cussed him out. Part of him hoped she would. If she’d done anything but what she
did
do, he might have had a prayer of coming out of this without breaking his own resolve.