Against The Wall (11 page)

Tanner shrugged his huge shoulders, the gun still in his hand. “He’s alive. You didn’t say I couldn’t scare the shit out of him.”

“My God, don’t do that to me. You about gave me a heart attack.” She stalked up to him, poked her finger in his chest. “I thought you were going to kill him in there.”

“That was the best part. He thought so too. That’s what sold it. Your eyes, your face. It was perfect. He thought he was dead.” Tanner actually smiled and the expression softened his features. Straight white teeth flashed in the brightness of her mother’s kitchen and Jess caught a glimpse of a man she had yet to meet. She’d had a hint in the car when the sedative had taken effect, but not for very long. Heat flared beneath her skin, spread from her chest up her neck and to her cheeks. Smiling like that made him look like a normal man, despite his bruises, not a gun-wielding ex-con bent on killing. Baring a smile that brightened his eyes, he’d turned into a man she wanted to know.. But Tanner did sat

This was the kind of guy she could like.

The room suddenly heated up. Maybe she needed to turn on the AC. Apparently kidnapping screwed with her radar.

Tanner’s brows knit together. “Something wrong?”

Jess took a step back, cleared her head. “Yes, something’s wrong! I’m holding my boss hostage in the garage, of course something’s wrong.” She paced the long kitchen, not caring that Tanner watched her every move.

Okay, that was a lie. She hated him watching her this way. He probably thought she’d crack any minute and back out of their plan. She wasn’t a wimp.

She’d prove it.

She marched back into his space, hoping to intimidate him as he’d done to her last night. Granted, she wasn’t his size, but now she had the attitude. Besides, things had changed. They were partners of sorts and she had the right to get in his face. “Don’t go playing good cop, bad cop and keep me out of the loop. I’m not playing games. This is too important.”

“I agree. We want him to give up his money. Or himself. I don’t care which, but I doubt he’s going to happily agree to walk freely into Facinetti’s hands. So, let’s give him a minute to think about how he’s going to get all that money where it needs to go. Hell, we should make him wait five hours, instead of five minutes, b—”

“But we—”

“I know.” He put a finger against her lips and shushed her. “We don’t have that much time.” He said the words, but his gaze lingered on her lips. Her stomach somersaulted as his eyes darkened. Heat exploded in her center and blossomed upward to her chest and face. She’d have to remember the next time she invaded someone’s space that the person should be smaller than herself.

Now, she should step back. Step away from the large man with the gun. A man who nearly killed her last night and choked her this morning. An unstable man…with the darkest, most intense chocolate brown eyes she’d ever seen and the most amazing body…she wanted to touch.

Uh, oh. Not a good thought. Not good the way he stared down at her either. His gaze sizzled, stoked the heat that crept up her body and flushed her cheeks a second time.

She should move her head down instead of craning to look at him. Standing this way gave him a target and he clearly had a target since his gaze was still fastened on her mouth as his finger gently traced her lips.

“Uh…” She went dumb. Had nothing to say and forgot what she’d been about to say. “I, uh…”

Tanner bent his head a fraction and Jess’s heart thumped so hard it was bound to register on the Richter scale. He kept moving closer, his lips closing the gap between them and Jess didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. He gave her nothing but time to change her mind. Slow, slow, slow.

Back away, leave,
don’t let him kiss you.
But in her ear. “I didnd l she didn’t budge.

Her eyes fluttered closed, his lips brushed hers and time stopped. He grazed her mouth, back and forth, barely a touch, as if were he to do more, everything would stop and the illusion would shatter. This
had
to be an illusion. Jess didn’t kiss ex-cons. She hardly kissed at all, couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been on a date.

The kiss beat any date-ender by miles and Jess didn’t pull away. She moved closer, nearly brought their bodies into contact, but not quite. He leaned down, put more pressure against her lips and Jess reciprocated, lifted onto her toes to fit better. They did fit. Perfectly. His lips molded to hers, firm but soft at the same time. She didn’t expect him to be tentative, she’d expected—

Boom.

He grabbed her, pulled her tightly against him and took her mouth hard. Drove his tongue past her teeth and filled her with himself. He tasted like the coffee they’d shared that morning. He tasted dangerous. With his arms wrapped around her so tight she couldn’t budge, didn’t try. She took his kiss, stunned at the ferocity, at his strength. At the obscene way he owned her.

She should be scared. She should be fighting to get free, struggling to get out of his bear-like grasp. Instead, heat spread through her body. Chills streaked down her back. She wanted to feel the muscles of his arms, his back, wanted to touch any part of him, but he’d grabbed her, wrapped his arms around her and pinned
her,
holding her tight as if she might run otherwise. His mouth continued to take hers. His tongue stroked roughly around hers, deeply into her mouth as if he couldn’t control the motion, as if he had never experienced it.

At least not in seven years.

The shockingly hard ridge of his erection burned against her stomach. A flare of panic spiked in Jess’s chest. Just as quickly as it did, Tanner let go. She stumbled backwards and gasped for air, her whole body awash in tingles.

His eyes were wild, stunned, so dark she couldn’t tell where the pupil ended and the iris began. He stepped back, leaned his head against the door and shut his eyes. “Jesus.” Wiping a hand down his face, he shook his head. “I’m…I didn’t mean…” He opened his eyes, watched her. “I won’t do that again. I’m sor—I won’t do it again.” He opened the door and left her alone, with her lips throbbing, stinging from his kiss, and her body overheated from his touch.

____________

Tanner couldn’t get out of the house fast enough. Every cell of his body wanted Jess and he’d barely controlled the urge to take her on the kitchen floor. What scared him most wasn’t the fact that he wanted her—that was a no-brainer after being celibate for seven years. No, what freaked him out was the way she’d stood on her toes to get more of him. Didn’t she get it? He was an ex-con. They were leagues apart in every aspect of life.

He should never have touched her. Holding a finger to her mouth had been worse than stupid. Getting a feel of her soft lips had pushed him over the edge. Yeah, he thought he could take a in her ear. “I didnd l little and back off.
Idiot. Dumbshit.
He’d even given her time to come to her senses. He’d been slow, sure she’d back away or slap him, put him in his place. But the little fluff ball had wanted more and in the blink of an eye he’d lost control.

She got way more than she bargained for. But she’d think twice before getting in his space again, so he had to be grateful for that. He hated people in his space, especially her. She smelled too good, looked too good. He’d almost apologized too. Wasn’t that an ass-kicker? Yeah, he was sorry he couldn’t relieve the hard-on, but not sorry he’d tasteth was a sensation of hot and cold. She tasted like the tiny mint breath fresheners she chewed all the time, but her mouth was warm, dark and so damn inviting.

Tanner shook his head, finding himself in a shaded corner of the backyard, near a slider bench. His parents had one just like it. When was the last time he’d been on one? Ten years ago? More? He refused to go back to that time when he had family and friends, a life.

He couldn’t go back and who knew what his future held. All he had was now.

Blood still pounded through his veins, settling in his rigid cock. He needed to lose the hard-on in a big way. He dropped to the cool grass, set the gun on the wood chips under the nearby hedge, stripped off his T-shirt and did the only thing he could do.

Push-ups. He did them in the morning and at night. He did them in prison anytime a hard-on got too extreme to ignore. He punished his body with exercise since sex wasn’t an option and having an audience to any solo relief hadn’t appealed to him.d her. Her mou

Chapter Nine

“Hey, Paulie, you up yet?” Frank Grubb asked from the other side of the bedroom door.

Paul Facinetti closed his newspaper with a snap. Foreclosures, murder, suicides… The world was going to hell. What happened to honor and living by a man’s word? He pushed the breakfast tray aside and tightened the belt on his black, silk robe as he got out of bed. He let the grand simplicity of the open room soothe his nerves. He hadn’t been in Los Angeles since his sister’s death, but he was glad he hadn’t sold her house. Though he liked Vegas and the money he made there, he understood his sister’s love for the water and appreciated her style. This master suite on the top level of the house gave him a spectacular view of the Pacific and with the walls painted an ocean green, it was almost as if the water flowed right from the sea and into the room. Beige drapes billowed from the breeze coming through the French doors and matched thick carpeting under his bare feet.

“Yeah, I’m up,” he answered.

Frank walked into the room, announcing his presence with enough cologne to kill a moose. “I just wanted to let you know that everyone’s behaving. No stupid moves or nothing like that.”

“
Anything
like that,” Paul corrected as he shoved his feet into comfortable slippers.

Frank just stared at him, his head cocked as he tried to figure out what he’d just been told. It was not a look uncommon to this man. Paul sighed.

Frank spoke like a punk with no education. Of course, he
was
a punk with no education, but Paul had always hoped he’d quit talking like a man with no brain and too much muscle.

“How long before we hear from the assistant bitch?” Frank asked.

“How many times have I told you not to categorize someone before you’ve met them? From what I can tell, Jess St. John is a very nice person. Her boss put her in a bad spot. The fact is we have her parents and brothers, and that would make anyone unhappy. If we’d met her under normal circumstances, I’m sure she’d be very friendly.”

Paul had spoken to Jess on the phone a few times before he’d met with Maurice Juneau, and she’d been very accommodating. Very nice. He could practically see her smile over the telephone. He regretted what he had to do, but Juneau had cost him too much time and money. Jess St. John had been the next easiest option. She ran Juneau’s life and the man had been stupid enough to brag about it.

“Friendly? around her waist and pull’to his m” Frank latched onto Paul’s last word and took it out of context the way he usually did. He swaggered, a bull sniffing for a mate. “Like, uh…just how friendly?” He lifted bushy brows and smiled crookedly.

Paul wouldn’t have kept Frank employed if they hadn’t been together so long. Frank had saved his ass in high school more times than Paul could remember. What he lacked in brain-power he made up for in loyalty. Frank would never betray him, he’d never try to take over the business. He knew where his place was and he never bitched or moaned. He made more than a decent living and took plenty of vacation time. Paul knew enough women so that Frank always had a good fuck when he needed. Life was good for Frank. He’d never screw it up. In this world, that meant something.

Take Maurice Juneau for instance. The man had promised a movie. He’d laid out a plan, shown Paul where his money was going, who the stars were and where the film would shoot. Paul had always wanted a taste of the film industry and he knew a few guys who’d invested and made some money. One film had gone on to be nominated for an Oscar. What a frickin’ ride that would be.

Not that Paul expected that type of success out of the box. Films were hit-or-miss. He understood that. That’s why he’d demanded to read Juneau’s film. It was gritty. Real life. Maybe that’s what spoke to Paul so strongly, why he connected so much. It was about a kid working his way from a bad neighborhood to rise up and become a man of substance, someone to be reckoned with, someone who deserved respect. Paul felt like it was his story. So he’d forked over eight million dollars. Eight fucking million dollars had got him jack-shit. There was no movie, no nothing.

The more digging Paul did, the more he found out about Maurice Juneau. The man was a scum-sucking magpie. But he’d been smart enough to hire more security after Paul called him. Paul sighed at his mistake. He should’ve just picked Juneau up and gotten it over with. Either get the money or exterminate the man. But Paul still liked to think that business relationships could remain friendly when all parties played fair. He should’ve known better by this stage in his life.

“Hey, Paulie, you done with this melon?” Frank asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Paul used words Frank understood. “Knock yourself out.”

Frank popped the honeydew melon in his mouth and smacked appreciatively. “While we’re talking about friendly,” he said. “That St. John woman in the basement, she ain’t friendly at all.”

Paul cringed at the reminder. “How is Lou feeling? He still have a headache?”

“It’s going to be another week before he’s active again. His head aches, his balls ache. She whacked them all the way into his throat.” Frank gave him a pointed look. “It ain’t right that she get away with that. Give me the word and I’ll make sure she don’t do it ever again.”