Double Cross (Hard Target Book 1) (16 page)

Heat flamed across her cheeks and Cory knew she was blushing furiously. “He…I…I came back the next day hoping to see him. And…well…we—”

“Just answer me this. Was it a pity fuck?”

Cory jerked her head up as anger surged all the way into her fingers and toes, leaving her extremities tingling. “I beg your pardon! One, I don’t believe what we did in the privacy of his bedroom is any of your business, no matter your relationship to him. Two, Duke is the sexiest man I have ever met, and he…we…”

Her nipples pebbled beneath the tank top she wore, and her breasts felt full and achy. She’d give anything to feel Duke’s hands on her again.

“Do you know these men?”

A folder of photographs spilled across her lap. Brow furrowed, Cory looked at each one. Two men were in uniforms, though different branches, two others wore suits. “No. I don’t believe so.” She glanced up. “Should I?”

“Evidently not. Get some rest, Dr. Prince. You’ll be starting work tomorrow.”

“Pardon me?”

“You’re working for me now, doctor. In the clinic with Doc Pemberton. We need a good pediatrician on this key.”

The woman turned on her heel, leaving Cory sputtering. Out in the hall, Mother nodded to Duke, not at all surprised to see him standing there eavesdropping. “Satisfied?”

“Not by half.”

“Take care of her, Duke.” Mother had the balls to shake her finger at him.

“You’re not going to give me a choice. What the hell, Mother? Putting her to work with Doc? Is she part of the team?”

“For now.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means I want to keep her under surveillance until I know exactly what is going on and why someone keeps throwing her in your path.” She glanced down below his belt, and her eyes were rolling as she looked up at him. “Think you can keep that bad boy in your pants?”

Duke fought to remain in control. So what if the princess gave him a hard-on? She was an attractive woman, and he’d already fucked her beautiful body into submission. Of course his dick wanted more. Mother patted his cheek, and he glowered.

“That’s what I thought. You might want to consider a gag, though. The walls at the Barracks aren’t soundproofed.”

Ah, hell. Mother’s comment put all sorts of ideas into his head. He really needed to get Dom drunk and talking. He glanced at his watch. Almost noon. This was as good a time as any. Duke faced the partially open door, but hesitated. He backed up a step and glanced through the crack between the door and its frame. The lump on her forehead was barely noticeable, and the bruises had begun to fade. Her eyes were so damn blue, and she looked so fucking lost he forgot to breathe.

No, not yet. He wasn’t quite ready. To face her. To face his feelings. To face his feelings for her.

CORY STEPPED out of Doc’s clinic and shivered as the familiar feeling of being watched shimmied over her. She’d had this feeling for a week and noticed the same nondescript, silver compact car parked down the block. She couldn’t see if anyone was sitting inside, but she hadn’t walked by to check, either. The whole idea made her jittery. Normally, she would stroll that direction for two reasons—that way took her past the street where the Hard Target team lived, and it was the more direct route to the little cottage Mother Goose had moved her into.

And speaking of both the team and Mother…maybe she should just go to the bar. Duke had been noticeably absent—as in nowhere where she happened to be. The two men she was learning to call the BS twins, collectively, made a habit of stopping by the clinic for several hours each day. As paramedics, they helped out with the minor injuries that wandered in. Doc’s clinic, while a front for his ties to the team, also served a need in the community—cheaper treatment, especially for minor ailments.

Deciding to trust her instincts, Cory walked in the opposite direction of the suspicious car. As streetlights flickered on, she realized she’d stayed later than normal. Key West wasn’t ever completely dark, especially where she was headed, but she remained jittery. She picked up her pace. Crossing a street, she glanced behind her. The car was moving slowly, keeping pace with her.

Jogging now, she dodged window shoppers with breathless apologies. At the next corner, she stopped, stayed back from the curb, waiting to cross with a group. The car accelerated and sped on up the street. Cory exhaled and rolled her eyes at her silly fears. She hadn’t always jumped at shadows, but Africa and Venezuela taught her a boogeyman didn’t always hide in the dark, but walked about in full daylight too.

Cory crossed the street with a small group of tourists and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw no sign of the car. Just her imagination, surely. Her step lighter, she headed toward Mother Goose’s. Her nerves now could be attributed to what she was about to do—confront Duke. Apologize to him. And maybe beg him to kiss her and take her to bed. Well, perhaps not that last bit. She was not
that
bold. Feeling more upbeat now that she’d made up her mind to approach Duke rather than wait for him to seek her out, Cory swung around the corner. The entrance to Mother’s was just ahead.

She realized the silver car was double-parked, and the trunk was open at the same time something slammed into her from the side, driving her between two parked cars toward the rear of the sedan. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she struck out at the man who grabbed her. He picked her up with a grunt and did his best to avoid her flailing fists. He dumped her in the trunk and slammed it shut. Panicked, Cory kicked at the metal above her head, still screaming.

The sound ripped across Duke’s senses. A woman’s scream.
Cory’s
scream! He was up and out the door a heartbeat later, the rest of the team close on his heels. He plowed through a knot of people gathered on the sidewalk, all of them staring at a car parked in the middle of the street and the man in dark clothes darting toward the open driver’s door.

“She’s in the trunk. I can hear her.” Kin. The Wolf’s senses were far superior to his own. The two Wolves barreled into the street to block the car, Tank and Dalton right behind them.

Duke couldn’t move for a moment. His vision was tinged with red, and he knew if he touched the man who’d taken Cory, he’d kill him. Finding that cold center where he went before pulling the trigger, he glanced at the flyboys. “Get her out. Take care of her.”

He strode into the street. No one touched the man, but he cowered like he’d been beaten. Duke had to stifle the need to do just that. “Who are you?”

“N-none of your business.”

“Yeah, it is. You put hands on Cory.”

“Who?”

“Who she is doesn’t matter. What she is does. She’s mine. Now, who the fuck are you, and why are you trying to kidnap her?”

Dalton smiled, all good-natured surfer dude. “We should take him for a sail, Duke. Drop him overboard. Oops. No more problem.”

The man straightened and attempted to stare down the group surrounding him. Duke almost laughed. This was a man with the pale skin of an office drone, plump fingers shaped like sausages, and out of breath from his struggle to stuff the princess into his trunk, and he was trying to face down a pack of apex predators. Duke snarled as a commotion erupted behind him.

“Gerald?” Cory pushed in next to him, and Duke snagged her arm to keep her from getting too close.

“Princess.” He lost his grip on her as she lunged toward the guy.

Cory stopped right in front of her kidnapper and glared. “Gerald! What do you think you’re doing?”

She knew him? Ice-cold jealousy froze him in place.

“You need to come home, Coreen. The family is worried about you. This…” He lifted his hand in an insipid wave to indicate the men with her. “Cult has you brainwashed. You should come home where we can take care of you. I’m your cousin—”

Before Duke could react to the man’s insinuations, Cory’s hand landed a fierce slap with enough force to drive her cousin sideways against the car.

“How. Dare. You.” She spat out each word. “I am not going anywhere with you. I’m not listening to you…you…you miserable pile of excrement.”

Duke bit his lips and elbowed Dalton, who elbowed Tank, who winked at the two Wolves. The flyboys didn’t even try to hide their amusement.

Schooling his voice, Duke asked, “So, this is your infamous cousin Gerald Davis from the State Department?”

“Yes, though I’m annoyed beyond acceptable levels of tolerance that he would try to kidnap me.”

“Huh. I’m just pissed as hell. Want me to beat him up for you?”

Cory snorted, an inelegant sound completely at odds with her personality. “Trust me when I say I am quite capable of exacting punishment myself. Gerald, while attempting to browbeat and torment me when we were children, only succeeded in annoying me. Much like a mosquito. One that I smacked quite frequently.”

“Okay, just checking.”

Two people wearing Key West Police Department uniforms had bicycled up but stayed in the background, observing. Mother appeared and stood next to the male cop.

“Rob.”

“Mother.”

“You’ve met Doc Pemberton’s new partner, Dr. Cory Prince?”

“Sure have. Ma’am.” He dipped his head like he was tipping a hat, only it was a baseball cap with KWPD embroidered on the front. “We got a problem here?”

“Officer, I am Gerald Prince Davis with the State Department. I have in my possession a court order to remove my cousin, Coreen Prince, from these environs under the authority of my fiduciary duties as the duly appointed power of attorney governing the Prince family trust and Coreen’s mental and physical well-being. She has not been well, and the family is concerned for her welfare.”

“Why, you muculent, porcine tumor of pompous—”

Muculent? What the hell did that even mean? Duke grabbed Cory around the waist, this time swinging her off her feet before she could charge her cousin again. His action did not stop the spew of bad-mouthing she heaped on Gerald.

“Despicable, reprehensible, ambitious…turd.” She snapped her head in a nod. “You, Gerald Davis, are a turd.”

Rob rubbed the back of his neck, chin tucked against his chest, and bit his lips. “Those are some mighty big words, but I suspect if I asked the doctor she’d be able to bore me to tears with the definition of every last one of ’em. Doesn’t sound like she’s mentally deficient to me.” He glanced at his partner. “What do you think, Patti?”

The female cop had a note pad out and was jotting in it. “Think? About what? Sorry, I was taking notes. As insults go, those are good ones.”

Cory swung her arms and legs again. “Put me down, Duke.”

“Ah, no. I don’t think that would be a smart move at the moment, princess.” His anger had dissolved into amusement—for the time being.

She struggled harder and damn if his dick didn’t perk right up. He needed to have a long talk with the sonavabitch about inappropriate reactions to the woman currently in his arms and muttering even more words for which he’d need a dictionary in order to decipher their meanings.

“Prick! That’s another name for you, Gerald. You are a colossal, half-witted, distressingly inadequate excuse for a human being. And that is the definition of prick in my book.”

Duke shackled her closer to his chest and bit the lobe of her ear. “At ease, princess. Let the police deal with this.”

She sucked in a breath, and her breasts expanded against his arm. His dick nestled against her rounded ass, settling quite happily into the valley between the twin mounds. Duke would never have guessed a long skirt could be such a damn turn-on. He forced his attention back to the situation at hand. He and his dick would deal with Cory later and in private.

Gerald suddenly switched tactics. He rounded on the police. “Officer, I insist you arrest Coreen. I want to press charges against her for assault.”

Rob sucked on his lips, eyeing Gerald like he was some alien creature. “Yeah, I can do that.” He held up a hand before any of the Hard Target team could respond. “But then I’d have to arrest you for attempted kidnapping.” He glanced around at the crowd gathered to watch the show. “Plenty of witnesses.”

“But I have a court order.”

“And I have a badge.”

“And I have the judge on speed dial.” Mother held up her smart phone and smiled pleasantly. Every one of the Hard Target team members and the two cops cringed as she continued, “Though it would be just as quick to step inside to roust him from my bar. This is poker night, and the judge doesn’t like to be disturbed. I don’t believe he’ll be predisposed to generosity.”

Reluctantly, Duke loosened his grip slightly to allow Cory room enough to slide down until her feet touched pavement. He glanced at Rob. “Personally, I’d like a look at this alleged court order. Then I think we need to lock the sonavabitch up.”

Gerald huffed out a breath. “Very well. If you’ll permit me—” He opened the car door and leaned in to snag a leather briefcase. Setting it on the driver’s seat, he leafed through a stack of folders to pull out a file. He bypassed Duke’s outstretched hand and offered it to Rob instead.

The man sniffed at Cory. “Frankly,
cousin
, I am disappointed in you, as I’m sure your parents, rest their souls, would concur.”

Cory’s eyebrows arched above her eyes in a mocking display of incredulity. “Frankly,
cousin
, I am surprised you don’t remember that I forever disappointed my parents—from my choice of clothes to my choice of medical residency. I distinctly remember my father sipping his brandy and enjoying his Cuban cigar while he lambasted me for wanting to be a pediatrician. As for my mother?” She lifted one shoulder in an elegant display of disdain. “She was far too inebriated and involved with social obligations and her paramours—much like your own mother—to care.”

Dalton nudged Duke and whispered, “Dude, don’t ever piss her off. She’ll flay your skin off with those hundred-dollar words.

Duke grinned and whispered back. “Yeah. Sexy as hell, ain’t it?”

Rob finished reading the long sheet of paper then passed it along to a man who’d sauntered up. He wore a tropical shirt of impossible colors and plaid Bermuda shorts. With a cigar stuck in the corner of his mouth, a bottle of beer in one hand, and a battered baseball cap that read “The Conch Republic” pushed back to reveal a broad forehead and sparse hair, he skimmed the order.

“Huh.” The man handed the document back to Rob. “Which one of these sumbitches is causing all the trouble?” Everyone pointed at Gerald. “Damn tourists. Son, you have about fifteen minutes to get in this damn rental car and get your ass pedaling up Route One before I take a serious dislike to your aforementioned ass.”

“But,” Gerald sputtered.

“But nothin’. That order’s not valid. You didn’t attempt a Baker Act and frankly, you jackass, that action would not fly given Dr. Prince’s very firm grasp of reality and her obvious intelligence. What you tried to do is prove incompetence, and since the defendant was neither notified nor present to present a defense, the order is invalid and there’s not a judge—unless you’re paying his retirement fund
in toto
—who would enforce what’s typed on that paper.” He glanced at his watch. “You now have approximately ten minutes. Officers, I leave it in your capable hands to deal with this matter. I have a winning hand and lots of chips on the table.”

Rob touched the brim of his cap in a salute. “Sorry to bother you, Judge Rouse.”

Gerald snatched the order from Rob’s hand and stuffed it into his briefcase. He hesitated before getting into the driver’s seat, but was careful to keep the door between him and the others. “This isn’t over, Coreen.”

“Is this about the money, Gerald? Because I don’t care about it. I never have. You want it? Have the trust lawyers draw up an agreement. I’ll consider signing the bloody thing just to put an end to your ridiculous attempts on my life.”

“Yeah, about that.” Duke growled from behind her. “We still have a score to settle, asshole.”

“What the—” Gerald jerked and shook his foot. Moshe, rudely interrupted by the man’s reaction, moved to the rear tire and lifted his leg again.