The Seven: Four tales of passion, danger and love (36 page)

Still latched onto her breast, he forced her back onto the floor, continuing the sublime torture as she reached for his erection, circling it with both hands. "Now," she urged, pressing her pelvis up against him.

He raised his head from her aching breast and smiled. "Not by a long shot." He grabbed her legs behind the knees and spread her legs wide, raising her hips off the floor.

Her body jerked as his tongue lapped at her wet folds, sucking her labia into his mouth then working his tongue up her length to suck on her clit. "Oh god,"she moaned as his tongue worked down to plunge inside her.

He lowered her to the floor, pressing her knees back and wide. "Hold your knees," he ordered and as soon as she complied, leaned down to spread her wide, exposing her clit.

His tongue flicked over it, circling and teasing before capturing it in his mouth, sucking on it with that talented tongue tracing over the head. Jazz's fingers dug into her own flesh as she spread her legs wider, wanting more, feeling the approach of a wave.

He pressed two fingers into her, stroking deep as he continued to suck on her clit. It was more than she could withstand. With a shudder she exploded. Before the wave had crested, he pulled her forward, pressing the head of his erection at the entrance of her sex.

The wave intensified, leaving her mindless to everything but the sensations. She moaned as he penetrated, stretching her wide. He pushed slowly, deeper and deeper inside, until the length of him was embedded inside her.

Jazz had never felt so full, alternately clenching on the hardness that impaled her, and all the while riding an orgasm that had her quivering and whimpering.

He stroked slow inside her, surfing on the energy of her climax, stretching it out so that each time it started to subside, his pace would increase, driving harder and deeper. She felt like a drawn bow, taut and vibrating like a plucked string, unable to control the onslaught of sensation that had her writhing against him in ecstatic abandon.

"More," she moaned when his movements slowed. "Give me all of it. Take me hard, Rock. Now."

"Play with your clit."

"I can't come twice that way."

"Yes, you can. You will. Do it, Jazz. Show me."

Her hands moved between her legs. His eyes were glued to her hands, watching as she ran one finger over the hardening bud, stroking first with one finger, then two.

He measured his pace in time with her, at first slow then increasing as her body began to tense with impending release. At the first vibration, he drove deep inside her, pounding deep and hard. Jazz screamed in pleasure and pushed up, forcing him back so that she straddled him.

With ever faster strokes she rode him, her nipples brushing his chest as her fingers dug into the top of his shoulders.

He groaned as her sex started to contract rapidly, milking him in strong pulls. As she crested he let go, riding the wave of orgasm together, until at last they were released. Jazz let her head fall onto his shoulder, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. His arms circled her, pulling her closer, skin slicked with sweat meeting and mingling.

For a long time he held her then drew back and looked into her eyes.

"What?" She asked.

"Just curious. Do I fuck as well as I fight?"

Jazz laughed in delight. "Honey, there's no doubt about it. You get a gold medal."

"I'd rather have more of you."

She raised one eyebrow. "You think you're ready for round two, big guy?"

"That depends."

"On?"

"On what you were doing here tonight."

Jazz couldn't look him in the eyes and lie. Not after what had just happened. She might profess outwardly that it was only sex. A good fuck. Inside, she knew different. She'd sensed something deeper in their joining. A connection. She didn't know what it meant, only that she'd felt it.

Only she wasn't ready to reveal that to him. "Me first. Why were you naked? And I know I saw a panther so what happened to him?"

"That's not important. What are you doing here? In the dark, snooping around."

Jazz could tell she wasn't going to deter him. "I was looking for information on someone."

"Why?"

"My job."

Rock studied her eyes for several moments. "We're not talking about what you do here, are we? Working here, I mean."

She shook her head.

"Then what? Why are you really here, Jazz?"

There wasn't much point in telling a lie. And she was not going to get truth or help from him if she wasn't honest. "I'm a bounty hunter by trade." She smiled at the surprise that came onto his face. "And part-time bodyguard. I'm here to find someone."

"A criminal?"

"No. A man I've been hired to protect."

"Protect from what?"

"Whatever or whoever might threaten him."

"And you thought you'd find information on him here? Why?"

"Call it a sixth sense. I...I pick up on vibrations. It makes me good at my job. And here's the only place I've picked up the scent, so to speak."

Rock fell silent for a long moment. "Just who is this man you're looking for?"

"A brainiac. Some doctor named Burns."

A grin started to form on his face and he bit his lip. "Burns. R. C. Burns?"

"Yes! You know him?"

"Before I answer that, tell me this. Just what are you supposed to do to this fella?"

"I told you, protect him."

"And I guess that means you'll be sticking to him like glue 24/7."

"Yep."

"Maybe even seducing him so you can get inside his home."

"Maybe."

"Interesting. Let me ask you one more thing. Would you sleep with this man? Fuck him?"

"That's not part of the job. But if there was no other way to keep him close, I'd flirt it up with him."

"Interesting."

"So you know him? Come on, Rock. If you know him, tell me."

"Yeah, I know him. Very well."

"Then you can introduce me to him?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Well, you might be able to bribe me."

She smiled at him. "And just exactly what kind of bribe are we talking about, Rock?"

"How about you, bent over that bench over there with your ass in the air?"

She considered it for a second. "On one condition. The ass is off limits."

"No ass?" he asked with a mock expression of dismay.

"Not with that rod you're packing. I know my limits, big guy, and that far exceeds what I can handle."

"Okay, I'll settle for the rest of you. Repeatedly."

She searched his eyes. "And this is your price for an introduction?"

"That's it."

"Hmmm, well, I might be able to go for that, but I'm gonna need that introduction in advance."

"And what's to say you'll keep your end once I comply?"

"My word, I give you my word."

"And your body."

"Yes."

He stroked up inside her a few times, pulling a moan from her. "Rock, please," she breathed." Do we have a deal?"

"Oh yeah."

"When?" She started to ride him, already feeling a climax approach.

"Why, right now." He flipped her over onto her back, pulling her legs up over his shoulders.

"Now?" She tried to focus even as the whirlwind descended on her.

"Right now," he groaned and rammed deep inside her.

All thoughts of deals and bargains vanished from her mind. All that existed was the sensation of him inside her, taking her over the edge time and again, until she was sore, screaming for an end, but still wanting more.

A vibration in his belly preceded the groan that came from his lips. It was enough to send her tumbling once more into a void of sensation. When it ended, he lay down on top of her, his heavy body pressing her into the mat, his heart beating rapidly against her chest.

He rolled over and pulled her with him, molding her along the length of his side. "You're really something, Jazz. I don't know if a man could ever get enough of you." He raised his head and winked at her. "Lucky for me, I'm going to get to try."

"Not if you welch on the deal." She knew full well that she'd take him willingly any day of the week regardless of the deal.

"I'm a man of my word." He rolled over onto his side, pressing her down on her back. "Miss Boudreax, meet R. C. Burns."

"What?" She swiveled her head looking around then back at him and the grin on his face. "You... You? No. No way. I'm looking for this MIT doctor scientist dweeb. R. C. Burns."

"At your service," he said with a laugh. "Rockwell Connor Burns."

Jazz gaped in him in surprise, watching his smile widen. All at once she remembered what Stanzia had told her. "Hold on. If you're Burns then - then that cat. That was - that was you?"

Rock's smile disappeared. "I don't know—"

"Oh no, don't lie to me, Rock. The person who hired me told me that Burns is a shifter and if you're Burns then..."

His eyes narrowed slightly before he blew out his breath. "Okay, yeah it's true."

Jazz nodded. "Well, so you're a what? Were Cat?"

"No, Shifter."

"And the difference?"

"I can take on many forms."

"Okay, well if—"

"Jazz, you wanna talk or fuck, baby?"

She knew he was putting her off, but at the moment it didn't matter. She'd located her target and having to stick to Rock like glue was no hardship at all. "Well let me just say, you're not exactly the way I envisioned a brainiac."

"Disappointed?"

She pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him. "Not unless you tell me you're done."

His erection pressed up against her, hard and eager. "Not by a long shot, baby."

Jazz chuckled and rose on her knees to guide him inside her. "You know this job is looking real good."

Chapter Five

It's not that I think she's being dishonest it's just that I can't imagine anyone hiring a bodyguard to protect me. No brag, but I'm more than capable of taking care of myself.

Still, it prompts the question of why and who. That's something I intend to find out.

It does give me a bit of disappointment. If she were just a woman who'd appeared in my life out of coincidence then I could enjoy this a lot more. Knowing she was sent here to find me and is determined to do her job throws a little bit of a wet blanket on things. Is her attraction for me completely genuine?

And fuck, when did I become the man who couldn't tell when a woman was genuinely into me? I must really be off my game.

Rock took a seat on a wicker couch on the lanai of his house. He'd been mulling it over for two days and had finally reached a decision on his course of action. He pulled out his cell phone and placed a call. It rang half a dozen times before there was an answer.

"Yes?"

"Severin? Rock - I mean Conner."

"I'm surprised to hear from you."

"I'm surprised to be calling."

"If you are then it is of import."

"It is. At least to me. I need to meet with you and Andre. And Augustus, if possible. Can you arrange it?"

"Possibly. Can you tell me what it's about?"

Rock quickly told him what he'd learned from Jazz. Severin responded immediately when Rock finished. "When and where?"

"Wherever you choose and as soon as possible."

"Give me two hours."

"I'll be waiting."

Rock ended the call and stared out over the landscape. Few people outside of the man he'd just spoken with and those he'd requested to meet with were aware of his history, or his accomplishments. For the majority of the Seven he maintained the facade of the affable Shifter. Strong and capable, dependable and loyal, he was known to be intelligent but hardly viewed as someone with the mental capabilities to achieve what he'd accomplished as Rockwell Burns.

For someone to hire a bodyguard for him meant they had to know all about him and that made him uncomfortable. He needed to consult with his friends to determine the best course of action. And he needed to do it before he let himself get in any deeper with Jazz.

Which reminded him. He needed to get the full scoop from her on who hired her and why. He hadn't pressed her for details at the gym, but then his attention had been on other things at the time.

He picked up his phone again and called her.

"Hey. You busy?"

"Not too busy for you."

"Then how about coming over to my house?"

"What's the address?"

"Want me to text it to you?"

"Just tell me. I'll be there in an hour."

Rock gave her the address and signed off. Now to wait and see if the pieces of the puzzle would come together.

*****

Fred Mindleton was not a man accustomed to being kept waiting. The fact that he had been waiting for over three minutes had him ill-tempered. His phone buzzed and he stabbed at the speaker-button angrily. "What?"

"Mr. Barnette is here, sir."

"Send him in."

Mindleton didn't bother to stand as the door opened. The man who entered had an appearance that made a many people nervous. Well over six feet, he had the build of a serious bodybuilder, a shaved head, and ink-work that covered nearly half his body. The flat black eyes of a shark stared from beneath his heavy brow in unblinking fashion, set in a face whose lines announced that he was a man unaccustomed to smiling. A heavy scar bisected his right eyebrow from hairline to eyelid.

People often made the mistake of underestimating Harry the Hammer Barnette, judging him on his appearance to be as deficient in mental capacity as he was endowed in physical. Fred Mindleton was not one of those people. Nor was he one who feared Barnette.

There was a time he would have, twenty years ago. Before Asha had turned him. Now, as a Vampire there was little he feared. Despite the exultation being a Vampire gave him, aside from Asha no one knew. Mindleton kept his secrets just that. Secrets.

His habit had proven valuable after the fiasco at Asha's estate in the Hamptons. Preternaturals were under constant surveillance now. All he'd worked for could have been threatened by the knowledge he was one of them.

No, he wasn't about to reveal that secret.

"You're late." He looked up at Barnette.

"I'm here." Barnette shrugged.

Fred slid a thumb drive across the desk. "Got a job for you."

Barnette picked up the drive and stuffed it into the pocket of his leather vest. "Give me the lowdown." He lowered himself to a chair in front of the desk.

"It's on the drive."

"You know me, boss," Barnette said with a rare grin that was almost more frightening than his stoic countenance as it didn't reach his eyes. "I like a Reader's Digest condensed version to whet my appetite."

Fred allowed himself a chuckle. "Very well. Rockwell Conner Burns. He has something I want and is reluctant to part with it."

"You want him dead or just compliant?"

"Compliant."

"Any existing complications I should know of?"

"Not that I am aware. He owns a gym with an ex-fighter, Ed Nash—"

"No shit?" Barnette cut in. "He still alive? I remember watching him fight when I was a kid. Man had fists like pile drivers."

"Yes, he lives. And operates a gym in Kissimmee, Florida. Where Burns is masquerading as a trainer."

"You want something from a muscle head?"

"As you will read on the drive, Burns is as much of an enigma as yourself. He holds a number of patents that are generating millions of dollars annually."

"And something that could generate more."

"Exactly."

"So, this Burns. He's a fighter?"

"Yes."

"He pack heat?"

"No. There are no weapons registered in his name."

"He have a posse? A gang?"

"From what we have learned, he has few friends, is something of a womanizer, and spends most of his time either at the gym or at home."

"So, this gym. Busy place? Lots of trainers?"

"Aside from Burns, only one. A recent addition. A woman. Jasmine Boudreaux."

"Jazz?" Barnette's eyebrows rose.

"You're familiar with this woman?"

"Let's just say that our paths have crossed a time or two." Barnette fingered the scar on his forehead as he answered. "What's she doing working there? She's a bounty hunter."

"And bodyguard, it seems."

Barnette grunted. "Yeah, on rare occasions."

"Will this woman be a problem?"

"Hell no." Barnette heaved himself out of the chair. "In fact, having her there makes it even more appealing. She and I have an old score to settle."

"Just make sure you don't allow personal matters to interfere with the job."

"When have I ever?"

Mindleton didn't reply and Barnette turned away, stopping when he reached the door. "Be in touch, boss."

After he'd gone, Mindleton picked up the phone. "I want a detailed dossier on Jasmine Boudreaux."

He hadn't considered the woman to be a significant factor, but if she and Barnette had crossed paths before and if, as he suspected by Barnette's actions, she was responsible for the scar, then he wanted to know more about her so he could access any potential threats she might pose to the operation.

Barnette climbed onto his motorcycle and revved the engine. Fate had just handed him an opportunity he'd been waiting on for three long years. As he pulled out into traffic, he let his mind take him back.

He'd been tracking a bail jumper for three weeks, the hunt taking him from LA to South Carolina before the prey had gone to ground in a small wooden house in Lancaster with a worn-out prostitute-turned-waitress and her two kids.

Barnette had set up surveillance, getting to know the routine of everyone in the house. Once he had the schedule down pat, he made plans to make his move. On Wednesdays the woman worked the late shift at a local bar. The kids spent the night with their grandmother, leaving the bail jumper alone.

He waited until almost midnight when things were quiet, and snuck around the side of the house. He could see the guy sitting in an old vinyl recliner watching television and drinking from a bottle of Jack Daniels. It was going to be easier than he thought.

Barnette made his way to the back door, easing up the two rickety steps. He'd just reached for the handle of the screen door when the unmistakable feel of the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his head.

"Easy, hoss," a voice he'd never forget whispered.

Barnette raised his hands and turned slowly, looking down the long silencer attached to the Glock, to Jazz's face.

"You're encroaching on my territory, Barnette."

"Seems to me it's the other way around."

"Uh-huh," she smirked at him. "Besides, you owe me."

"The fuck I do! You ran out on me, you bitch! With all the money."

"My money."

"Half of it was mine. We worked that job together."

"Way I see it, your half was payment."

"For?"

"For me finding you in my bed with your dick up that blonde's ass."

"Man's gotta have some relief, Jazz, and you sure as shit weren't putting out."

"Damn skippy. You cheated on me."

"Then why wait until after the job? You didn't say shit when you caught me."

"We were in the middle of a job, you jackass. One of us had to stay focused. And it sure as hell wasn't you."

"Fine, so I fucked around on you and you took the money. That doesn't have shit to do with now."

"Oh yes it does. You haven't come close to paying off that debt."

"Oh yeah, I have. Now put that damn gun away. You know you're not going to shoot me."

"Don't put it to the test," she warned as he took a step toward her.

"I mean it, Jazz. Put it the fuck down or I'll have to take it from you."

"Not gonna happen."

He made a move for her. She had one split second to decide. Shoot or not. She chose not, but did flip the gun in the air, catching it by the barrel to bring it around in a hammer strike.

The blow caught him in the forehead over his right eye and ripped a slice open clear down to his eye.

Barnette howled like a wounded buffalo, his right eye blinded by blood. His howl alerted the target inside. Shots came from the back window, peppering the ground around them. Jazz grabbed Barnette by the arm and dragged him around the corner of the house. He slumped down, holding one hand to his head.

"Stay here," she whispered and disappeared back around the side of the house.

That was the last he saw of her until she appeared with the bail jumper, cuffed and bloody.

She knelt down in front of Barnette. "Now we're even," she said and patted him on the shoulder.

He watched her walk away, the captured target in front of her, and swore. She might think it was over but it wasn't, not by a long shot.

And now he found himself being handed Jazz on a golden platter, an unexpected perk. Haul in the doctor for Mindleton, and get even with Jazz Boudreaux all at the same time. Life was good.

*****

Jazz drove through the massive iron gates, watching in her side mirror as the gates swung closed behind her. When Rock had suggested she come to his place as they left the gym, she'd jumped at the chance and was following him home.

Since their night in the gym, they'd had no time alone. The gym was packed from open to close with fighters preparing for a qualification round the upcoming week. Most nights when she left Rock was still working with a fighter. She'd learned a lot about Rock from watching him train the fighters. Most importantly was that he was a fighter who fought the primary battle on the mental level. While he was fast and strong and had excellent technique, on those factors alone he could have been beaten by a number of guys. But when his superior intellect and strategy was factored in, he was unbeatable.

Jazz was one hundred percent certain he could take the title if he chose to enter the competition. But he didn't seem interested. She wondered if it had anything to do with his other work and the life he'd left behind.

He didn't talk about it, and they had little time to talk anyway. A couple of stolen kisses and quick grabs were all they'd managed until now.

From what she'd seen so far of his home, he lived in a freaking swamp. On both sides of the drive thick foliage pressed in tight, forming a wall of jungle, dense and seemingly impenetrable.

The drive wound through the jungle for nearly half a mile. She was expecting to see some shanty shack any moment. But as she rounded another turn the house came into view and her mouth dropped open.