Convicted (Entangled Ignite) (7 page)

Nothing Frank would be interested in. Frank didn’t care that she’d stroked Cade’s hair off his forehead in the dark, because she knew he was having a nightmare. That Cade had held her hand afterward, gently. Protectively.

He didn’t trust her. Didn’t know her secrets, though she’d found herself revealing parts of her past she’d sworn never to remember. But he held her hand like he was the one protecting her.

Like fuck she’d break that fragile bond for Frank.

“Same thing I always ask for. More.”

The bar wasn’t wide enough, it turned out. Fast as a rattler, he reached for her, his hand closing around her throat and yanking her forward. She couldn’t gasp, couldn’t even grab the edge of the polished wood before her ribs slammed into it. His grip simply tightened, his face in hers, every violent thought in his mind right there in his eyes for her to see.

He held her there, practically suspended, long enough that she’d have no doubt he could snap her neck and not blink. “Your uncle can’t protect you from me, you smart-mouthed bitch. I will end you and that cop you’re screwing the second you stop being useful to me. Understand?”

Her fingers stretched out, the need for oxygen turning the edges of her vision black. She could fight or she could give him what he wanted.
Live to fight another day
, her self-defense instructors had drilled into her. Lie, maneuver, seduce. Whatever had to be done to get to the next minute alive. She nodded.

He tightened his grip, that cruel smile little more than a garish mask before he let her go.

It took everything she had not to drop to the bar surface and wheeze. She couldn’t help the cough, though, her hand immediately coming up to wipe the feel of his steely fingers away.

Maybe it would be worth it, letting Red Dog come home instead of rotting in the solitary prison cell she’d arranged for him. He might hate her with every fiber of his being—that happened when the kid you raised was the agent who threw your ass in prison for life—but he’d have no compunction about cutting Frank into small pieces and feeding the bastard to the coyotes for daring to touch what belonged to him. He might even let her watch…

“What did he tell you?”

Nothing. Cade never told her anything, but she already knew what was coming next from the sheriff’s department. He’d likely consider her decision a betrayal, and maybe it was, but it kept him alive to fight another day, too. She could only pray this truth was the better of two evils. “They’re going for the Fourth Street house. Probably in the next few hours.”

Frank’s largest warehouse.

His face mottled and for the briefest second, she wondered if he was going to attack her again. If she moved an inch, he would have. All he needed was a trigger to blame. So she stayed still. Watching. Waiting. Until he finally turned on his heel and strode out of the bar.

She stared at the door for five long minutes, making sure he wouldn’t return, before she grabbed her bag and ran for the office.

Chapter Five

Damn woman
…

Cade rolled out of bed at the sound of the knock on his window. After dragging on the pair of sweats he kept handy for exactly this kind of visit, he opened the window to Trina’s impish grin.

“Hey, handsome.”

“Where’ve you been the last couple of days?” He fisted his hands to keep from helping her in.

She hopped into the window, slipping into his shitty little rental with the lithe ease of a feline. Long legs folded up to her chest and over the ledge in one sleek movement. “Visiting my uncle. He likes to know what I’m doing with his money.”

“You could have called.” People disappearing in Marketta was a bad sign, and he hated it every time she ran off.

“So could you,” she pointed out, but he ignored her. She laughed. “That’ll be the day, right? Cade Evigan, giving a convict a booty call.”

“It wouldn’t have been that and you know it,” he groused, heading back to his bed and leaving that topic alone. The only people who used his cell number were her, Rick, and dispatch. He never called
anyone
. “You could sleep at
your
house once in a while.”

“Like I could get a decent night’s sleep there.” she answered, clearly oblivious. “They all know where it is.”

They
being the motorcycle club she seemed to hate but showed zero interest in walking away from. In fact, from what he’d gathered, she despised them all and went into great detail filling him in on each member’s failings and weaknesses. The people there now weren’t the members who had raised her. Now they were little more than mercenaries on two wheels. Or as she called them, “reprobate assholes on bikes.”

Sometimes, when she went on a swearing tear, he wondered how many branches of the military
she’d
been part of.

The thud of her boot hitting the floor made him bite back a groan. Fuck. This would be another of her
clothing optional
visits. Those had been happening with more frequency of late. Another boot, then the little sigh she made as she peeled down her latest pair of impossibly tight pants. Probably her first taste of oxygen all damn day.

There had to be a good reason for her driving him this fucking insane but so far, he had no idea what it could be. Only an idiot would think she was chasing him simply to get laid. But this was Katrina, an enigma of a woman on her best days. Anything less than her best meant he was hopelessly out of his depth.

Sometimes he’d swear there really was something between them. That not only was she serious in the way she flirted, but that somehow, she had taken root in parts of him he thought had burned away a long time ago. It was a nice fantasy.

Unfortunately, his heart had turned to ash too long ago to even remember when it had happened. His first recon into a village destroyed by friendly fire? Or maybe the first hostage he’d lost? Or maybe it all happened at once, when the men he counted as brothers died in that last firefight while Rick dragged him to safety?

“I’m going to steal a shower,” she said, breaking into his morbidity. “Don’t worry, I’ll be quick.”

Steal
being the operative word.

He refused to look at her, knowing she was walking naked into his bathroom. Of course she was. Her unending campaign to break his policy on sex with anyone he might have to arrest meant she got to flaunt herself in as many creative ways as she could. She had absolutely no respect for his cock, dammit. If she kept this up, it was going to break off or he was going to stroke out from lack of blood to his brain.

“Take as long as you want,” he muttered, reaching down to ease the ache in his dick. He listened to the water pattering on the tiles, her gentle humming as she scrubbed…whatever. His imagination wove a simple picture of her, while his fist encircled his sex. He meant only to apply pressure, hoping to calm it down before she came back and noted her success. But the mental image of her wet, sudsy, and slick had him stroking instead. Just a few times…

Who was he kidding?

This was the only way he kept from making an absolute fool of himself. Kept him able to ignore the spark between them. Ignore it until he resented it. He wasn’t so delusional that he didn’t recognize a universal fact he had no chance of escaping.

Women as vital as Trina didn’t want men as dead inside as him.

She deserved better, a truth that had kept his desires in check day after day for the last six months. She just didn’t seem to know it.

His eyes closed, letting go of everything but the image of Trina in his shower. He sped his stroke, concentrating hard on it to quiet his thoughts. Just the water, her sighs, and the dream that he had something more to offer her than the body of a ghost who didn’t know how to die.

…

Katrina didn’t know what she expected to see, creeping back into Cade’s bedroom as quietly as she could. Maybe just a little proof that he was suffering as much as she was. She hoped, anyway. Cade could be as revealing as a sphinx sometimes. She’d learned to read his almost smiles, the quirk of his mouth before he’d look away. It was hard to miss his anger, given the way he handled brawls in town. But when it came to desire, all she had to go by was the heat in his eyes. For a delicious second, she’d bask in it… Then he’d take himself away.

She drew in a breath. He wasn’t going anywhere this time. She watched his hand move beneath his blanket with a fluidity that couldn’t be mistaken.

A smart woman would back away as quickly and quietly as possible. He couldn’t make his position against her any clearer. He did not want to be involved.

But a logical woman knew that was complete bullshit. Not only was she not asking for anything beyond sex, they were already involved. They were involved the second she introduced herself to him. That was why she hadn’t been able to shake her curiosity of him. Or her concern for him. Kicking her desire for him was even harder. The more he pretended it wasn’t there, the more she felt the need to make him admit it.

Maybe that made her a stupid woman, because she wasn’t about to miss this chance to finally taste what he’d been keeping from her for so long.

Moving silently, she was already reaching to grasp him over the blanket when she found her wrist gripped in an unforgiving fist. She didn’t even have enough time to process that shock before he yanked her across him, onto the bed’s empty side. His blankets fell over her, pulling tight between their bodies. Cade pinned her arms over her head, his chest hard and hot against her. She writhed, wishing her breasts were free of the taut bedding.

He shook her, rattling the headboard in the process. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

“Copping a feel,” she replied breathlessly. The light from the bathroom glittered in his dark eyes, casting his stubbled jaw into stark contrast. “You were, why shouldn’t I?”

“I could have hurt you.” Still could, he seemed to be adding.

“No, you couldn’t.” He had it in his head that he was nothing more than a marauder, but Katrina knew the truth. Yes, he was fucked up. There was no use pretending the scars weren’t there. But she’d be damned before she let him go on believing his soul was gone. He was a good man and he’d rip off his own arms before he hurt her.

To say nothing of what
she’d
do to him if he even tried it.

He closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath and—she guessed, considering how often she drove him to it—pulling from his shallow well of patience. Not wanting him to get his wits now that she’d firmly discombobulated him, she made the only move she had left. Lifting her face to his, she closed the gap and kissed him.

At first there was nothing. Those firm lips might have been steel against hers. And then she licked him, running her tongue over the seam. Surprise had him parting for her, and she finally tasted the heat of the man himself. She moaned at the flavor, her hunger for him surging in an instant. He must have felt the same because everything changed.

He took absolute command of her mouth, her body, controlling her with ridiculous ease. Sweeping his tongue across hers, demanding she follow, that she give him anything he wanted. And she did, holding him as tight as she could with her legs, despite the bedding still wrapped over most of her body, aching to feel the thick length of him through the fabric.

She opened her thighs as wide as she could, luxuriating in the feel of him sinking between them. Her leg finally pulled free of the blanket edge, sliding up his flank and curling over his back. It was his turn to groan, and oh, she loved the sound of it. Almost as much as she reveled in his kiss. He let go of one of her hands, sliding his over her throat, holding it there in a clear indication of possessiveness. Of his strength.

She never imagined Cade might touch her like this. In the back of her mind, a flash of fear went off, remembering Frank’s vicious grip even though the marks had long faded. It disappeared as quickly as it rose. Frank meant to control her, threaten her. Cade only wanted her to stay. To want him as much as he wanted her. He demanded she meet him kiss for kiss, that she give as much as he did.

Thought became instinct and every instinct insisted she get closer. Touch more of him. Make him touch more of her. Even that soon became too much to sort out because his hand slipped the blanket down to take ownership of her breast. Kneading. Plucking the tip while his hips rocked against her, rubbing but not satisfying.

She arched her hips up for him, trying to feel more. Instead, the fiery need only intensified. Frustrated, she tried again to move the blankets from between them, pushing with her free hand until the offensive fabric was down to her hips. Every slide of his hot skin across her breasts felt like a lash of electricity, sending delicious shocks from her nipples to her pussy until she cried out into his mouth.

He wrenched his lips away, unfocused eyes staring down at her while they both panted desperately. “We…we can’t do this.”

“Yes, we can.” A lot. Until they broke something, which they probably would if she had anything to say about it. She shifted, trying to pull the remaining sheet from between them. He couldn’t work her up like this and not finish it. “I put condoms in your bedside table weeks ago.”

“I—you what?” He actually lifted from her slightly to look down at her disapprovingly.

She shrugged. So she was optimistic about him. “I figured we’d need them if I ever got you naked.”

Speaking of…those sweats had to go. Giving up on the blankets she went for the gold instead. Her hand snaked down, reaching for his cock. His eyes rolled shut as her fingers found his hard flesh and grasped it tight. His muscles shuddered when she began to pump him.

“I—”

“Just for tonight,” she whispered, knowing she was being selfish, but needing him as badly as she knew he needed her. He never said it and he might not even realize it, but he needed to connect with another person again. Someone who accepted him, scars and all.

And she needed to be herself with someone again. Just Katrina. Not the cover, not the past. Just herself. And she desperately needed to be wanted by
him
.

“What if…” Uncertainty softened his stark features.

“Just for tonight,” she repeated, rising to press her lips to his jaw, slowly stroking him between their bodies. “Just us. Nothing else.” She kissed the underside of his chin, adding little nips of her teeth along his neck. He growled, a low, sexy sound that made her smile against his skin. “Come on, Cade. Make me respect you in the morning.”

She lay back as he tilted a sideways glance at her, then the most unexpected thing happened. He smiled. The white of his teeth gleamed and dear God, the man had dimples. She shuddered in a breath, losing her rhythm below.

“Does respect come with obedience?” He lifted his weight up and the blankets between them whisked away. Then he came back to her, pushing those sweats down so his hair-roughened skin met hers.

Her eyes closed in relief and pleasure. “Not yet, it hasn’t.”

He grunted, shifting himself down her body so his breath teased her nipple. “Good. Always did prefer a challenge.”

His teeth closed around the hard little bud and a squeal escaped her. She felt another smile on her breast and fought the urge to hit him. He drew it deep into his mouth and the urge melted. Her hands, free to drift over him, sank into his hair, holding him to her, but he wasn’t about to be guided. He kissed his way to the other breast, hungrily taking it into his mouth as well.

She shifted restlessly, not sure what to demand from him. His hands molded over her body, shaping her to him, as if he wanted her caressing all of him at once. She understood that. She couldn’t get enough of his texture, his feel, the weight of him. That power she’d fantasized about for so long. Suddenly that heady strength was over her, like a storm she could never control.

Each stroke along her skin, every kiss and lick, seemed to heighten his hunger. He grew rougher, more demanding. Rocking harder, the underside of his cock sliding along her drenched folds. She arched for him, mindlessly seeking him, her channel already clenching tight for fulfillment.

“Cade,” she murmured, pushing at his shoulder. He was doing something to the side of her neck—sucking, biting,
something
—that was making her drip, dammit. “We need the condom.”

A rumble she took for dissent. Especially since he sped his movement against her clit, bringing her disturbingly close to whimpering.

“Cade!”

He pushed her thighs higher and, oh God, he was rubbing her just right now. “You come first,” he whispered in her ear, biting it as she felt his thumb glide over her clit from above. “Next time, it’ll be my mouth, sucking the orgasm right out of you.”

It was too much. She burst, her entire body arching against him while she shook and shuddered. He swore, reaching out for his bedside table and fumbling with the drawer. Panting, she listened to him rip the box and presumably the little packet before he came back to her.

She looked up at him, almost limp but still needing more. She could see he’d reached his limit. Expression stony as he fit himself to the well of her pussy, he delved into her with a sigh. One she echoed, her body accepting him as if he were the piece she’d been missing all her life.