#2 Dangerous Games (14 page)

Clint jerked open the door and moved from the truck, striding quickly up the cement steps to the house.

He was about to make the biggest mistake of his life. He was about to take a chance on destroying both
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of them, and he knew it.

The front door was open, but no lights were on. As Clint made it to the porch, every instinct he had ever honed in the SEALs went on full alert.

He heard Morganna's short cry, the sound of something breaking, and fear tore through him. He rushed into the house, his gaze quickly finding her. For a moment, one blinding second in time, Clint knew he had lost her forever.

The dim light seemed to glow around the two figures. The tall, masked form behind her. A leather fist was clenched in her hair, jerking her head back as the other hand lifted, the blade of a wicked knife gleaming in the darkness as Clint rushed for them.

His mind was processing as he rushed for her. The determination in her face, the lack of fear as her arm came up, bent, her elbow slamming into her attacker's solar plexus as she gripped his wrist and twisted with both hands.

Clint managed to grip her arm, jerking her back and throwing himself a| her attacker. The sound of a knife clattering on the floor was followed by a heavy male curse as Clint rushed him.

Rage transformed itself, fury and fear; the sight of Morganna within inches of death sent a flash of red before Clint's vision.

Before he could slam his body into the assailant's, before his fists could connect or the bloodletting rage could find an outlet, the dark form threw itself through the window behind him.

The crash of glass and the splintering wail of the home security system shrieked in Clint's head as he jumped through the window frame, landing on the ground in a crouch as gunfire splattered around him.

"You son of a bitch," he snarled as he threw himself to the side, staying low and rushing to the front of the house.

"Gun." Morganna was waiting at the doorway, pushing the .45 into his hands.

"Let's go."

He had to get her out of there. If the intruder was an assassin, he'd definitely have backup. Clint grabbed her arm as he balanced the weapon in his hand and pulled her from the house.

"Stay low." Clint pulled Morganna close to his side as he moved at a run for the truck, rushing to get her out of the line of any fire.

Lights were filling the homes around Morganna's now, and he knew the police would be on their way soon. Jerking the driver's side door open, he pushed her inside before following.

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"Get down." He pushed her down in the seat as he twisted the key in the ignition and pushed the gas to the floor.

The truck peeled out of its parking spot, followed by the ping of bullets against the side.

"I'll twist his guts if I find him," Clint growled at the damage to his truck. "Damn bastard. It's a new truck."

He twisted the wheel as he turned the corner, accelerating down the street and heading for the interstate.

Morganna hadn't said a word.

Clint glanced over at her, seeing her wide eyes, her pale face, as she curled up on the seat, her head lying next to his thigh.

"Are you okay, baby?" One hand shot from the wheel, running down her arm, her stomach, her hip. "Did he cut you anywhere?"

Clint leaned over her, checking her for injuries as he raced away from the residential streets. The fear that flooded him at the thought of her wounded, bleeding, cramped his guts in horror.

"I'm fine." She was shuddering, shaking from the shock. "No cuts. Few bruises. I'm fine."

He straightened, jerked his cell phone from the holder at his hip, and punched Joe Merino's speed dial.

"This is Merino. We have a report of a disturbance-" Merino's voice was frantic.

"I have Morganna," Clint snapped. "She was attacked when she walked in the door. Damned rookie.

He didn't expect her to fight back."

"Is there a body?"

"Negative. We're taking cover. We'll contact you at zero eight hundred hours."

"Shit," Joe snarled. "I'll contact you if they find anything at the house, and apprise the officer in charge that the owner of the house is safe. And, Clint?"

"Yeah?"

"We had another girl drugged tonight. She was being led to the back entrance when one of Masters'

bouncers caught sight of her and went to investigate. The bastard got away."

"The girl?"

"Critical. She's at the hospital now, but she was a little thing and the dose was a good one. She might not make it."

Clint took the exit to the interstate, his eyes narrowed as he checked the rearview mirror. It would be impossible to tell if they were being followed until they managed to get farther from town.

"They're looking for their next mark now." Clint's jaw clenched at the thought.

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"My gut is rocking on this one, and I know yours is, too. We don't have much time here. What did you find out tonight?"

"Not enough." Enough to know every fucking Dom in that club had put his name in the hat in case Morganna asked for sponsorship, but that had nothing to do with the drugs or their mark.

"Is Morganna okay?" Joe breathed out roughly across the line, obviously aware that this was not a discussion Clint was ready to have.

"She's fine." Curled at his side like a little cat. "Find out what you can; we'll talk later."

He disconnected the phone before shoving it back into the holder and easing up on the gas. He kept a close eye on the rearview mirror as traffic began to thin and they neared the next exit he was searching for.

"I'm going to find a hotel for the night." He buried his hand in her hair, caressing her scalp. He needed to touch her, to know she was alive.

He felt her nod.

"We'll find some place with room service. You need to eat, to rest. We'll figure this out tomorrow."

"Someone knows," she whispered. "I know I didn't give myself away, Clint. I know I didn't. We weren't even close to finding out who's supplying that drug. All we caught were three of the dealers, and they had no idea I was involved."

Clint swallowed tightly. He agreed. There was no reason for a hit against her, not now, not yet. Unless the suppliers were aware that she had been behind the arrests of the dealers. And if any of the Fuentes family were still operating behind the drug, then it would be a matter of personal satisfaction to take Morganna out.

"We'll figure it out." He couldn't stop touching her. Even as she moved to sit up, he pushed her back down.

"Stay down a while longer," he whispered. "If they're looking for us, they're looking for a man and woman together, not just a man. We'll be at the hotel soon."

Her hand curled over his knee as her head rested on his thigh.

"I was scared," she whispered. "I'm glad you came back."

She hadn't looked scared. Determined. Defiant. But she hadn't looked scared.

"I never left." He kept his eyes between the windshield and the mirrors, his body tense as he watched the traffic coming up on them.

He couldn't think about that now. He couldn't think about how close that knife had been to her throat, how easily she could have died in front of his eyes. He couldn't let himself admit, yet, how he had nearly
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failed her.

He slowed down and the cars behind him passed. He sped up and they fell back. There was no sign that he had been followed, that anyone cared one way or the other about the gray extended-cab pickup heading for the next off-ramp.

The assailant in Morganna's room had been sloppy, but that didn't mean he couldn't track her and Clint.

The only thing that had saved Morganna was that her attacker hadn't expected a fight. He had expected a victim. And he hadn't expected Clint. The advantage of surprise had been on their side. This time.

"If I had lost you ..." He swallowed tightly, his throat tightening at the thought as her hand tightened on his knee. "I'm okay." But she was still shaking; her voice quivered. "A miracle." He kept driving. He knew where he was going, but he was determined to take his time getting there.

"Well, I have to admit, it wasn't looking good there for a minute." Her laugh was shaky as she rubbed her cheek against his thigh.

His teeth clenched at the vibration of pleasure that echoed into his rapidly aroused cock. God, he couldn't even keep his head out of his pants long enough to get her to safety.

This was one of his greatest nightmares, that his need for her, his hunger, would affect his better judgment, his training. At the moment, all he could think about was getting her to a hotel, locking the world behind them, and sinking into the soft, blistering heat between her thighs. He had to assure himself she was alive, breathing, whole.

He wanted to hear her scream for him. He wanted to taste the sweet, soft syrup that ran from that tight pussy and become drunk on the taste of her.

He licked his lips, tightened his hand on the wheel, and made another turn. His gaze was never still; his mind assessed every vehicle he passed, every flash of headlights in his rearview mirror. His senses were as alert now as they were in full combat mode, despite the arousal. At least so far.

"Why did you come into the house? I thought you were leaving." She suddenly asked the question he was hoping she wouldn't think of.

Clint inhaled roughly. He could feel the invisible bands of steel tightening around him with the knowledge that it didn't matter what he had told himself over the years. He couldn't walk away from her.

"It's a good thing I did," he grunted, his fingers luxuriating in her thick mass-of curls. "You were holding your own, baby, damned good. But he was better than you."

"No kidding," she sighed. "But you didn't answer my question."

Silence filled the truck then. He made another turn as he leaded back to the interstate.

"I couldn't walk away," he finally breathed out roughly. "I couldn't."

"Why?"

He knew what she needed to hear, knew what she wanted. He glared at the signs along the interstate that pointed him to his destination.

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"I can't answer that, Morganna," he breathed out roughly. "You were right earlier, though. You deserve better. But maybe, we both deserve to know where this could go, too."

She stiffened for a second before he felt her inhale deeply. The tremors still raced through her body, but they were no longer shudders; she was no longer fighting to breathe from terror.

"And the operation?"

He snarled silently. "We'll work together. You were right about that, too; it wasn't fair to take it from you. But you'll follow my rules, my direction. Period."

"You mean that?" The vulnerability in her voice tore at his heart. God, how cruel he had been to her. He had hurt her in so many different ways that her voice echoed with distrust.

"I mean it, baby." He shook his head as he drove into the enclosed parking garage attached to the Sheraton. "Come on. Let's get a room and see if we can figure out what the hell is going on here."

He pulled the truck into one of the upper-level parking spots, a shadowy corner with the elevator and stair entrance shielding it from oncoming vehicles.

"Stay put a minute." He slid from the cab, reaching into the back and pulling free the emergency duffel bag he kept there.

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and replaced it with the one in the duffel, then pulled the extra license plate from inside and moved to the rear of the truck. A quick change and he was back to the cab and storing the old plate beneath the seat.

"Interesting." She was staring back at him with wide, stormy eyes.

"It should be effective." He shrugged. "They're looking for Fulton County tags, not Cobb. Ready?"

He ran his gaze over her intently. There was no blood, a few scratches, and .one of the most gorgeous bodies he had ever seen dressed in leather.

Smooth sun-kissed flesh that he knew needed no sun to darken it. Long, loose curls twisted down her back, fell around her shoulders. And those breasts cupped by leather and held in place by the flimsiest ties were enough to send his blood pressure rocketing. The soft rise of the flesh over the cups tempted him, drew him until his head lowered and he heard her gasp as he breathed a kiss over the closest one.

She was warm and sweet, a bounty of passion and need that he knew he couldn't deny himself any longer.

Raising his head, he stared back at her, realizing his hands were gripping her soft hips, holding her in place where she sat sideways in the seat.

"Ready?" He stepped back, extending his hand to her.

"I'm ready." She slid from the seat, balancing her weight as she drew in a deep breath, her hand gripping his tightly for a moment. "A little shaky, but ready." Her smile was quick, nervous. Her eyes were still big for her pale face, though.

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"Let's go then." He gripped her arm as he pulled her to him before slamming the truck door. He hit the automatic lock, then headed for the elevators. "There's a bathroom right as we get off the elevator in the reception area. Hide in there. There's no way to hide all that leather and that curvy little body. I'll get our room and come back for you."

She snorted. "And you think you're easier to forget?"

"There are plenty of dark-haired men in leather," he informed her. "Especially in this area. I have what I need to get the room in another name and hide us for a night or two until I can get this figured out. You, on the other hand ... every man breathing would notice that outfit. It's distinctive."

"Whatever." She shook her head as he escorted her into the elevator and hit the lobby button. "Just hurry, Clint, because I think I've about had it for the night."