The Huntress: full-length sexy romantic suspense (25 page)

Vega stayed at the door to the bedroom. Grayson could feel the uneasiness rising off her like steam from a kettle. “There was nothing in those files that would make him kidnap Fiona. The CD had some damaging evidence. Whitfield is connected with some new terrorist organization, Spider. And with some new crime boss in Detroit, Finn Kayne. Perhaps he’d think Fiona was connected somehow…though I don’t see why he’d…”

“What, Vega? What are you thinking?”

“Butch’s name was also in the file. He’s on the same payroll as Finn Kayne—Spider’s payroll, perhaps.” She paced a little. “Butch had been acting different—strange. I just thought he was a little crazed because he desperately wanted to get his hands on you and avenge his friend’s death.”

“Avenge his friend’s death? What are you talking about? Am I getting blamed for every damned murder in the country now?”

She stopped and stared him straight in the eye. “I’m talking about the bounty hunter you killed.”

“I didn’t kill any of the bounty hunters. I knocked one out, yes. When I left him, he wasn’t dead. I swear.”

“Doesn’t matter one way or the other.”

“It does to me,” Grayson grumbled.

“What matters is that I’m beginning to think I was wrong.” She fell quiet for several minutes. She started pacing again. “I’m beginning to think that Butch was being paid to get to you. Being paid a heck of a lot of money to get to you. I think…no, that can’t be right…I think he was desperate for me to lead him to you so he could hand you over to Whitfield. He was on the payroll. He’d been working with them for quite some time.”

She punched the doorframe. “Damn it, how could I have been so stupid? I bet Butch took Fiona just to create this crisis so I would rush off and do the impossible—find you.”

Grayson had to agree. He never expected anyone, not even Vega to be able to track him to this island. While his sanctuary was a good hiding place, it could easily turn into a death trap if hoards of killers were to follow Vega and land on the shore.

“So this Butch fellow could be mere hours away from dropping in on our little party?”

“That’d be his style.” Even pacing, Vega refused to cross the threshold and come into the bedroom, which irritated Grayson. He wanted her in the room. He wanted them to be as close as they were out behind the bar where she’d kissed him.

“You plan on confronting them, don’t you?”

Vega nodded.

“Could be suicide.”

“I know,” she said. “But Butch and Whitfield have Fiona, don’t they?”

“If she’s still alive, they probably do.”

“She’s still alive.”

“I suppose you’re not interested in rushing me off to safety?” Grayson smiled as he asked the question. He already knew the answer of course.

“Not when you’re the bait.” A grin snuck onto her lips. “Don’t worry. I won’t be able to collect the bounty if you get killed.”

* * * *

Vega breathed in the pungent smell of the stewed greens and fried chicken she’d found in the bungalow’s antiquated icebox. A good bounty hunter never starved her prey. Steak dinners were the usual fare for long-distance pickups. In this case, leftovers would do.

Grayson sat on the edge of the small cot with the plate balanced on his lap and used his free hand to eat. Despite his pleas, Vega refused to unchain his wrist to let him shovel the feast into his mouth unhindered.

Vega’s belly growled. The nutritional bar she’d eaten couldn’t compete with the rich aromas filling the room.

“Take whatever you want,” he said, holding up the plate. While the offer enticed her grumbling stomach, she shook her head. He just shrugged and pretended to ignore her. But she caught him watching her several times with a look she wasn’t sure how to read. She twisted her legs into the lotus position and took a moment to meditate.

Perhaps she was simply pretending to ignore him too. She had a devil of a time letting her mind and body relax with him sitting across the room from her.

“Are you afraid to come near me?” he asked. Evening was approaching. The shadows in the room had grown much longer in the past hour.

“No.” Vega closed her eyes and pretended to ignore him some more.

“Then why won’t you even step across the threshold into the room?”

Vega practiced a series of controlled breathing exercises before deciding to answer. “I can watch the front door, the back door, and you from this spot.”

“I don’t believe you.” He set the plate on the floor and leaned back against the wall. “I think you’re afraid of me.”

Vega rolled her eyes.

“Don’t misunderstand me, Vega. I don’t think you’re afraid I’ll overpower you and escape. I think you know I won’t. I think you now know I’m innocent, in fact.”

“It’s not up to me to determine your innocence, Grayson. That’s a job for the courts.”

“But you are afraid,” Grayson pressed on, undaunted. “You’re afraid you might want to kiss me again if you get too close.”

Of all the arrogant, testosterone flavored things to say. Vega walked out of the bungalow before he coaxed her anger into flaring again.

You would like to kiss him
.

There was nothing wrong with feeling attracted to an intelligent, appealing man. Why shouldn’t she wonder how his arms would feel wrapped around her body? Why shouldn’t she want to snuggle up against his broad chest?

Those erotic dreams of hers, so vivid in her memories, didn’t help cool her thoughts. Nor did prowling the island. On the far side, she found a sandy beach that stretched out to a marshy flat. The rising tide lapped at the shallow shore. Far beyond, Vega could see the faint glow of whitecaps in the Atlantic Ocean. This island was truly a paradise. She could understand why Grayson would want to find refuge here.

A light breeze tickled her neck.

You’re a fool, Vega
. How many times had her father warned that she’d screw up? That she’d be exactly where she was right now—in the middle of the biggest emotional mess of her life.

She held her father’s Glock. The cool metal felt flat, lifeless in her hand. His gun. His life. His dreams. This was all about him. Getting his gun back from Grayson—proving to her father that she was worthy to call it her own had consumed her. She never noticed how somewhere along the way of trying to become the son he’d never had, she’d completely lost herself.

You’re strong for a girl
, were her father’s last words to her. For years, she struggled to improve her body and mind. Imagining that she could somehow get her father to revise those last words, so one day he could smile at her and say that she was strong. Period. No qualifier necessary.

This quest for a dead man’s approval had cost too much. Fiona’s life was far too steep a price. Besides, her father was dead. Gone.

Tears welled up in Vega’s eyes as she finally faced the truth. She’d hated every day on the police force. Got no satisfaction from a job where her only desire was to please another—to please an unappeasable father. At least with bounty hunting, she did find a certain satisfaction in helping others when they were feeling their most desperate. When she wasn’t pushing herself and wondering how she’d measure up in her father’s eyes, she actually enjoyed her work.

“And I’m damned good at it.” Her instincts had been right about Grayson. Nothing in Harper’s hidden files had mentioned him. They did however, point an accusing finger toward Whitfield. In hindsight, the facts of Harper’s murder appeared simple. Straight forward. Harper finds the files and questions Whitfield. Whitfield, scared of what might happen, orders Harper’s death and sets Grayson up to take the fall. Only Grayson doesn’t fall easily. His military training kicks in. He runs, looking to survive.

She should have seen it all along. Grayson’s determination rivaled hers. If she’d only followed her instincts and focused more time on figuring out why Grayson might want her to dig around Six-Star for him, Fiona would be safe right now. Damn it. If she hadn’t let echoes of her father’s discontent guide her, Fiona would never have been taken.

Vega blinked her tears away. It was past time to let go. Her father was dead. The past could not be changed. That child who longed to have her father playfully muss her hair and tell her how proud he felt would never find peace. She had to stop trying to fix the past and start living for the future.

The first step involved her father’s Glock. For years, that gun served as the very symbol of her father’s approval. If she weren’t about to face down Butch and Whitfield, she’d toss the damn weapon into the sea.

Yet, the protection that Glock could give her was necessary. Bullets and steel. She required nothing more from the gun. Years of struggle had made her strong, much stronger than that little child crying for a father to love her back. She didn’t need anyone’s approval to carry her. She could carry herself.

It was past time to take some risks and live.

She returned to the dock to check on the channel. The water there was still too shallow to float a boat. It would be a few more hours before she needed to worry about any threats coming from that direction, so she decided to return to the bungalow to face Grayson—and her future.

She found him standing beside the bed in the shadows with his back to her as he gazed out the window.

“Do you plan to leave me chained like a stag waiting to be fed to the lions?” He banged the handcuff against the cot’s frame.

“Perhaps.” She really hadn’t considered what to do with him yet.

He turned around. His white teeth gleamed in the twilight. He didn’t look too worried. In fact, the way he was smiling and looking at her with that heated stare, made Vega suspect he might be trying to seduce her.

“It won’t work.” She crossed the threshold and joined him in the bedroom.

“What won’t work?”

“You won’t seduce me.” She climbed onto the bed and stretched out her legs. It felt good to take a break.

“Wasn’t considering it,” he turned back to the window, “thought
you
might try to get
me
into bed.”

She propped a pillow against the cot’s metal frame and leaned back against it, making herself comfortable. “Did you now?”

“Admit it, Vega, you’re attracted to me.” He peeked at her with the most arrogant grin plastered on those edible lips of his. “I’ve never had a woman look at me with such lust before…it’s damned attractive.”

Of course, she was feeling some deep stirrings in her belly. Especially with his soft, brown gaze caressing her body like that. She laughed and shook her head. “For someone who claims he’s not even trying, you’re doing one hell of a job of seducing me.”

“Am I?” He worked his way onto the bed. Like Vega, he didn’t bother kicking off his sandy boots before kneeling on the mattress with his legs straddling hers. “I can’t kiss you with you way over there.” He tugged at the handcuffs holding him to the frame. “This is going to make everything difficult.”

“With all your skills, I suppose you’ll figure something out.” She enjoyed watching him struggle against the shackle while his eyes heated. She wasn’t about to give in too easily.

One broad hand grabbed her knee and gave a sharp tug, knocking her off the pillow. He inched her closer, working his way up her thigh, her waist, and her chest.

His hand lingered on her chest. Not touching anything sensual in particular. The flat of his palm just rested between her breasts, following the steady rise and fall of her breath.

No rush. No pressure. Like he intended to take his time, to orchestrate the encounter as if she was the one bound to the bed, not him.

When would he make his move? She felt as green and horny as if this were her first time with a man. She lay flat and still, waiting…afraid to spoil the magic.

His gaze trapped hers as his slow, even breathing picked up its pace to match her much shallower rhythm. Each inhalation piqued her anticipation. Each exhalation melted her into the mattress. His hand still waited between her now throbbing breasts. The longer he refused to touch her the more her body ached.

This was nothing like making love with Butch or anyone else, for that matter. This was much, much more dangerous. She gripped the metal bed frame to keep from running.

“Unlock the handcuffs, Vega.” A demand.

“Not on your life.”

“I can’t do this properly with just one hand.”

“Try.”

Those handcuffs would serve her well. He couldn’t own her. Couldn’t possibly do to her what she was reading in his sex-clouded gaze, while half-bound to the bed.

“Didn’t say I couldn’t do it, just that it wouldn’t be proper.” He seemed to say more to himself than her. “I’ve been dreaming of this for far too long. There won’t be any rushing. Oh, no. I plan to savor you, Vega—savor every delectable inch.”

The cot creaked as he shifted his weight and inched forward so that his groin was balanced directly above hers. A sly smile spread on his lips. Lips that had not yet tried to kiss her, lips that taunted with teasing disinterest.

His hand stirred. Oh, he wasn’t lying about taking his blessed time. The movement wasn’t much more than a pressure change as his palm migrated lower, tantalizingly following the slender curves of her stomach muscles.

This was too much to endure. His hand didn’t follow the neat script weeks of erotic dreams had created. He didn’t go after what her body yearned for him to touch. Her hips rose with an instinctual need to guide him to that hot, wet place between her legs.

He didn’t obey. Damn him. Instead, he bunched up her tight, black t-shirt sliding it up to expose her breasts.

Though there was no heat in the bungalow, her taut nipples were about to ignite. Touch them already. She grabbed his hand and pressed his rough fingers to her breast. Her lips rushed up to meet his, giving her a taste of the cool night air lingering on them.

He guided her hand to touch the bulge straining his pants.

Control fled in the frenzied moments that followed. Vega graduated from acting the frightened virgin to playing the part of starving, insatiable wanton. She kissed him, licked his lips, and explored his enticing mouth with her tongue. He did the same, while squeezing her tingling breasts and teasing her nipples.