pdf - Eye of the Storm.PDF (20 page)

Slowly, she turned in a circle. Someone was in the room—watching her. Waiting. She reached to activate the intercom and call for back up when movement in her peripheral vision had her turning, knife up and ready to defend.

It was Bannon. She looked around and saw no one else, but that didn't mean Jordan wasn't hiding somewhere, maybe holding her brother hostage. She had to get help.

Tweeter could be somewhere in this room, hurt—or dead.

She moved so her back was protected by the rock wall behind Tweeter's desk. "You know, Bannon? I just promised Scotty I wouldn't kill anyone else today if I didn't have to—but at this point, I don't see how I can keep that vow." She watched his eyes. He had a habit of blinking when he made moves on her—or at least, he had the other times he'd attempted to grab her. She'd purposely forgotten to detail those other attacks to her brother and Scotty—probably a mistake, but she'd wanted to prove this asshole was a spy more than she wanted him kicked off Sanctuary for harassing her.

Of course, those other times he'd underestimated her skills—or overestimated his—

because he'd lost each confrontation. She bet he wanted to hurt her badly at this point to prove his machismo. Men were stupid like that.

"Just you and me here, you beautiful little bitch." He moved forward, weaving side-to-side like a cobra attempting to mesmerize its prey.

Unfortunately for him, she wasn't beguiled. As he approached, she watched his eyes, only his eyes. There—the blink. She kicked his attacking hand, hitting the wrist, numbing it, causing him to drop his weapon. A quick glance showed it had been a knife. While he swore and attempted to grab her, she dashed by him, kicking the dropped knife under a desk, keeping her back to the wall and her front at an angle to his.

"Where the fuck did you learn your moves?" His voice held suppressed rage as he pulled another knife.

Lucky her, he was prepared better this time. "Marines and SEAL Hell Week." She smiled at him, fluttering her lashes. His look of shocked disbelief was almost comical.

Unfortunately, she didn't feel like laughing. "And in case you hadn't heard, I also attended Army Sniper School. Thus, all my confirmed kills last night. Any other questions?"

He snarled, swiping at her with the knife. She turned away from the thrust. He missed, but she didn't. With a backhanded move over his extended arm, she cut him from elbow to wrist. She danced away, using her leg in a vicious side kick to keep him back.

That was the problem with knife-fighting, the attacker had to come in close enough to attack, thus opening himself up to being cut in return. This was why her Dad and brothers taught her defense movements against all kinds of potential attacks.

"Fucking bitch." Bannon switched the knife to his other hand as he held the bleeding arm against his torso. "Just wait until I have you on the ground under me. You're gonna beg me to kill you."

"Not gonna happen, asswipe." The ground or the begging. She taunted him with a grin as she moved in and out among the desks at the edge of the room. Her goal? The escape tunnel. Once inside she could seal him away from her and make her escape up the stairs into the Lodge's storage room off the kitchen. Only a few knew about the escape tunnel—and Bannon wouldn't be one of them. Not even the techs who worked in the Cave knew of it. Tweeter had shown her the day they arrived for a "just in case situation."

Bannon was hurt, but not enough to stop him. Even bleeding like a sacrificial pig and breathing harshly, he easily mirrored her moves, staying out of the range of her knife and legs. He swayed back and forth, thrusting his knife, playing with her, testing her, then retreating.

Keely was tiring, too many long days fighting Idaho weather and terrain with Tweeter and even longer restless nights without Ren to hold the nightmares at bay. She continued to parry his attacks, keeping him about three to four feet away from her at all times. She needed to reach the secret exit before she ran out of energy. He'd obviously learned something from their earlier encounters and had chosen to wear her down so he could eventually use his superior strength against her in one final, all-out attack. He wanted to hurt her; she wouldn't let him.

Finally she was close enough to the sliding panel to make it out; all she needed was a diversion to give her time to get through the door. It was then he decided to come at her.

Using her free hand, she grabbed and threw a handy code book at him. He ducked and turned away. Taking advantage of his distraction, she slapped her hand on the hidden panel and squeezed through the opening while it was too small for a large man like Bannon to follow. Once through, she slapped the sensor to close the door and turned to defend the narrowing gap, slicing at his arm when he attempted to stop the door from closing. The panel shut firmly on his litany of swear words.

Breathing hard from exertion and adrenaline, she ran up the stairs and entered the storage area. "Scotty," she screamed as she ran into the kitchen. The old man came running along with Ren, Trey, Vanko, Price and a large man she didn't know.

"What the fuck happened?" Ren grabbed her arm, taking the bloody knife from her other hand and handing it to Scotty. He pulled her into his body for a bruising hug. "Are you hurt?" He held her away and scanned her, snarling when he noticed the blood spatter on her turtleneck sweater. "You're hurt." His tone was flat, lethal as he touched her everywhere looking for the source of the blood.

"No, no." She started to tremble from the aftermath of the fight. "It's Bannon's blood.

He … he was in the Bat Cave … the tech … unconscious on the floor … needs help. I, uh, I managed to get away." Gasping, she shrugged out of his deathlike grip and shoved him toward the hall and the elevator to the sub-basement. "Hurry … he'll get away. We need to find … Tweetie. He could be…”

"Sis?" She turned. Her brother had come in from outside. "What's going on?"

Keely ran to him and threw herself into his arms. She heard the other men leave. "Oh my God … you're safe. I went downstairs … Bannon was there. I was worried…"

"Did that bastard hurt you?" Her brother performed an identical scan to the one Ren had. "His blood, I hope?" He looked toward the elevator as it closed.

She nodded, panting from adrenaline overload. She'd have a heart attack if she kept stressing it like this.

"Tweeter, bring your sister over here," Scotty ordered. "She needs to sit. Ren and the others have the situation under control."

"Goddammit, Keely. You're so white I can see the veins under your skin." He picked her up and carried her to a sunny window seat that was part of a small eat-in area. He sat and kept her on his lap as Scotty brought her a small glass of amber liquid.

"Drink this, little girl. Put some color back into your face."

Keely sniffed it. Scotch. She took a sip and wrinkled her nose at the taste. Her brother pinched her thigh. "Drink it all down, fast."

She did and coughed. The potent liquor hit her already stressed system and made her lightheaded. "You trying to get me drunk?"

Her brother's denial was interrupted by a deep voice. "Give me my woman, Tweeter, and stop plying her with liquor." Ren had come into the room and moved to stand in front of them. Her brother held her out and Ren scooped her into his arms and turned toward the back entrance.

"Wait a minute," she said. "You got back upstairs too fast. What happened? Did you get Bannon?"

"Somehow he managed to get out while you found us. He's on the run with Jordan.

Trey and the others are pursuing, using your nifty new security system. We put Vences under house arrest until we know how he figures into all this."

"Tweetie, we need to help coordinate the search from here…”

"No 'we' in this search, baby, just your brother and the others. You're going with me to my place and we're going to rest for awhile—or at least until my heart gets out of my throat."

"But Ren…" She looked into his eyes and shut up. She recognized the look as the man-had-reached-his limit look her dad would use when she and her brothers had pushed the boundaries he'd set for them. Ren wasn't going to budge on this issue. Fine. "Scotty is making pot roast for dinner and we are coming back here to eat it." She wouldn't be moved on that point. Normal life had to be established. She was tired of living from crisis to crisis.

Ren looked into her eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched, then stilled. "I can live with that—just as long you aren't out of my sight."

"Well, if I have to…” she trailed off as if she were making a huge concession, when she was quite happy to stay within his arms and sight for as long as he'd have her.

"You have to—or I might have a heart attack." He nuzzled her ear and whispered for her alone. "I almost lost you again, sweetheart. I just need to keep you close for awhile."

"Okay, big guy. It's fine—I'm fine." She breathed her assurances against his jaw line, then tasted it with her tongue. He shuddered, muttered a swear word, then kissed her. She sensed the lingering fear for her in the intensity of his taking. She gave herself up to the kiss, her arms around his neck, her fingers in his thick hair. She was safe—and desired.

What more could a girl ask for?

"Crawl in bed, sweetheart." Ren gently shoved her toward his king-size platform bed. "I'll take a shower and join you in a bit."

Keely turned and placed her hands on his flannel shirt and began to unbutton it.

"Want company in the shower?" Her voice was low, sultry—sexy—and it stoked his already over-active libido.

"Not this time." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I'll take a rain check, though." He brushed a silky curl out of her eye, his finger lingering to massage the creamy white skin above her eyebrow. "After last night and this morning, you have to be ready to drop in your tracks."

His shirt fully unbuttoned, she pulled it from his waistband, then began to attack the button-fly front of his jeans. Her hands were way too close to his hard-on. Shit, it wouldn't take much for him to shoot his wad. His cock was hard and throbbing for release just being in her company. His little brain knew what it wanted, and it wanted Keely. His big brain kept telling him how recently she'd been sexually traumatized in Boston, then attacked in Argentina by Trujo's mercs, and today by Bannon.

If those weren't enough reasons to leave her alone, she was a tiny, delicate pixie and he was a big, hard and far-too-experienced male. She needed a gradual introduction to his level of lovemaking; he'd go slow even if it killed him. They had their whole lives in front of them for hard, raunchy sex, but she'd only have one first time with him. He wanted it to be perfect.

So he'd take a shower and jack off. Then after a cuddling nap, he'd give her a couple of orgasms through heavy petting and some oral loving. Intercourse was not on the menu tonight and maybe not for awhile.
The truth was, he was afraid of hurting her.
Yeah, he
was a candy-assed coward.

Keely's hands on his bared cock caused him to jerk out of his reverie. If she continued to stroke him he might not make it to the shower and self-relief. He'd take her on the hard wood floor—and wouldn't that be romantic?

"Sprite, don't start something we can't finish." He gently removed her hands from his pulsating dick and placing them by her side.

"Why can't we finish it?" Her green eyes glittered as she narrowed them. Her luscious, full mouth thinned.

Shit, she was pissed. "Keely … baby…" Fuck it, how could he explain his plans? He suspected whatever he said, she'd get more annoyed. Maybe she thought he was rejecting her. He wasn't. He couldn't. He wanted to make love to her more than anything he'd ever wanted in his whole life.

"Ren?" She sighed, a tone of resignation in her voice. "Did my Dad speak with you about me … about us?"

He nodded. She was too intuitive. His wary gaze never left her beautiful face, hoping he could interpret exactly what she was feeling, thinking. Problem was, she had a perfect poker face when she wanted. Probably learned it from her Dad. If Quinn ever did get around to teaching her poker, no one's money would be safe.

"Okay." She heaved a big sigh, her hands moving to his thermal undershirt. She drew random patterns on his chest with a finger. His nipples tightened, aching for her touch.

"First, forget anything my Dad or brothers said." Her fiery green gaze captured his. "They aren't me—and they don't make my decisions. Understand?"

"Yeah, but…"

"No, yeah but…" She exhaled, a sound filled with frustration. "I think the real issue here is—I'm inexperienced and small and that scares you."

He opened his mouth to contradict her, but she covered his lips with her fingers, effectively silencing him. "Don't deny it, 'cause you'd be lying to both of us. I'm small and you're big, right?" She kept her fingers on his lips, so he nodded since she seemed to be waiting on some response from him. "However, I'll point out I'm slightly bigger than my mother."

He'd give her that point.

"You've seen my Dad. He's huge—big as you and maybe heavier."

Well, that was true.

"Mom survived the loss of her virginity at Dad's hands—and then birthed a set of twins, three other sons and then me. She told me sex with Dad was always good, even the first time. And I know for a fact that they still get it on today."

Whoa, way too much information.

He had to hand it to her—her logic was impeccable and irrefutable. But it still didn't make him feel any better. Her fingers dropped from his mouth. He choked back a laugh at the hot pink coloring Keely's cheeks. Imagining her parents having sex had thrown her for a loop, also.

Gamely, his little warrior continued. "I'm absolutely positive I'll survive losing my innocence to you. For chrissakes, Tweetie told me I don't even have a hymen anymore since that Argentinian doctor eliminated it with a too-big speculum. I'm pretty sure your penis will feel way better than a cold hunk of metal."

Shit.
He hadn't needed the replay of the idiot doctor sticking a cold piece of metal in her sweet pussy. He still regretted not punching the stupid son of a bitch's lights out.