BUFF (13 page)

His hands come up and cup the sides of her face, directing her head, turning it sideways as he seeks to deepen the kiss. His face slants as his lips pull from hers, opening slightly wider before consuming her again.

Their mouths mate, opening and closing together, slowly at first, then the pace quickens, fervently, when her tongue darts out tenderly. His tongue meets hers, massages it agonizingly in slow maneuvering circles before taking over completely and leading her into her mouth.

His nose bumps hers, turns the other way as though to get even deeper, demanding every inch of her. His hands fist in her hair, dragging her closer and all she can do is go to him and steady herself by placing her small hands on his wide chest. He rolls his tongue over hers, caressing the sides of her mouth then pulls away only to start the assault all over again. He tastes like coconut. Sweet and exotic. Creamy and light.

Her hot mouth yields under his dominating possession as he roughly nips her chin then grazes the corners of her mouth. He rubs his lips against hers as he waits for her to catch her breath, pressing small chaste but pleading kisses over every small curve of her lips.

“Colt…” she says, breathless.

The bed is behind them.

His fingers latch harder into her hair, lost from sight in her curls. Her eyes are closed, her mouth is red and swollen, exhausted from his ministrations but begging for more. Her dark lashes shake as he continues, touching her skin, experiencing the feel of his mouth under hers…

“Becky, this... I shouldn't."

She licks her upper lip, than follows with her bottom, grazing his thumb slowly along the way. Her eyes find his in their aroused haze. “But you did. Why?”

He swallows hard. His forehead is still pressed against hers, his thumb sweeping across the small indent in the corner of her mouth. “With you… I can’t help myself."

“You want me?” she asks, softly. Though a question, the indications of his desire for her are more than obvious.

“I want you,” he reveals, his voice low and guttural as though he is defeated. “I want you so much but I can’t have what I want."

“Colt—”

“Shssh.” His finger touches the center of her mouth. “Listen to me."

She nods and a small smile breaks his firm pout as though pleased that it’s the first time she’s ever willingly listening to him.

“You don't know me or what I do and that's how it has to be."

“I'll never see you again?” she asks, her voice desperate and breathy. She knows the truth but she hopes he will tell her the impossible.

But he’s already shaking his head. He hasn’t moved away from her. He hasn’t turned to ice. In fact he can’t stop touching her. The fingers buried in her hair are working softly against her scalp. His chest bumps hers as he takes a preparatory breath.

“I’m dangerous, Becky. I can’t have you or anyone in it. There's too much at stake and you can't be a part of it. Ever."

“But what if—”

His hand tightens around her. “Ever.” His jaw clenches hard, the bone juts out against the skin.

Her eyes cast to the floor with a trembling sigh. “So this is it."

“This is it."

She looks straight into his eyes and whispers the words he’d uttered to her once before, “I believe you."

“Hey…” He grips the back of her head tenderly, applying the slightest pressure for her to look at him. “I never wanted you hurt."

His penetrating stare falls hard on her. Her breaths staggering inside her, turning over as she fights for semblance. “I know."

“You need to be careful."

She shakes off his concern with a nod, pinning him with a meaningful glare. “
You
need to be careful, Colt, or is getting shot a weekly hazard in your line of work?"

“I'll be fine."

“You always say that."

He leans closer. “Because it's true.” His eyes are set on her aching lips. “Be careful."

“I always am—"

“Promise me,” he demands.

“Colt, please."

“Becky. Don't make me ask again."

Her hand comes up and touches the side of his face, reveling at the feel of his gruff skin under hers. Her thumb sweeps his cheek, her insides flipping at the sensation.

Her eyes hold his. “I promise.”

His eyes drop to her mouth again. “Thank you.” His solemn face centers in her trembling lips. His eyes scorching as he comes within inches of kissing her. “That makes it okay… as long I know you're okay."

“Colt—”

His mouth crashes into hers, his lips twisting with hers as they intertwine together. Their mouths, folds of flesh, gasping as they turn and dance over each other. When he finally releases her, he steps back completely, no longer touching her.

“Go,” he says.

“I…” She fumbles with her purse, finding her keys and latching onto them like glue. “Take care, Colt.”

She steps out from under the door and daylight makes her eyes water—or at least that's the excuse she wants to believe. She’s in denial about everything. She won’t make it to her car if she knows that this is real—so real—and she still can’t have it.

“Becky."

Her shoulders shudder. She stops, turning halfway round.

“I mean it. Be careful."

“I will.” She smiles a half smile already moving away from him and feeling the loss acutely as it steals her breath. “You too."

And then she runs. Runs harder and faster than she has ever done. She is so fast, everything is a blur. She doesn’t remember buckling her seat or turning on to the small highway that leads home. She finds herself on the road, her brain on automatic as she steers herself in the right direction, not being able to pay attention to anything but the brokenness burning a hole inside her. She is crying so hard she can’t control the sobs that come wrenching from her mouth. Her side hurts, her eyes ache, but nothing will subside the torment.

She is in Hell.

She just let the best thing that will ever happen to her walk out of her life.

*     *     *

“MONEY’S ON THE TABLE
. Now fuck off.”

The prostitute Emmett picked up a few hours ago vacates the room muttering some expletive under her breath.

Being beaten up had hurt his pride. He needed something to take his humiliation out on. He’d even bought a wig and outfit to make the hooker look like his Rebecca.

Sitting on the old-beaten mattress staring at the camera in his hands, he knows he has struck gold.

Rebecca needs his help. She needs saving.

She acts like she’s better than everyone—everything—living above the standing of her peers. She acts like a goddamn saint when in reality she’s anything but.

The slut is sneaking behind her parents back with some stranger, some fuck with a major James Dean complex.

She needs him. She needs him to find her way again.

You need to pay for your sins before I can redeem you, Petal…

He leans forward fingering the stained white transparent curtain. A small frown plays against his lips as he watches the man who’s just fucked his Rebecca slam the door to his motel room.

Leaning back onto the bed he flips the device in his hand, gripping it for good measure. He has the proof right here and it’s time people know that Rebecca Appleton isn’t the sweet little angel she pretends to be.

Yes, today he is definitely lucky.

*     *     *

‘YOU’RE LATE.”

Kulich smirks, his slippers hitting the slick surface with a slight imbalance. He rubs his eyes, looking at the clock on the wall. “We said 10:30.” He ties the belt of his silk robe.

Not looking up Colt continues to fish through the newspaper on the coffee table. “Yeah. This place is a mess, Vladimir."

“Good to have you back, man. You my nanny now?” Kulich leans his hand over the back of the couch. Colt takes it immediately, gripping it and flashing an even quicker smile his way before returning to the newspaper in front of him.

“Just stating the obvious.” His legs propped up, Colt plops the paper onto the table next to them. He sees Kulich glance there before turning to the wet bar.

“You know I hate it when you do that,” Kulich mumbles. He’s already pouring himself a stiff drink when Colt finally meets him at his side.

“Yeah I know."

Kulich eyes him from the corner of his eye, shaking his head. “Only you, man."

He walks around Colt sitting at the end of the extended white leather couch. Exhaling a long breath Kulich pats the seat next to him. “Tell me what's going on."

Colt, instead, comes opposite him, sitting in the lone chair beside the grand fireplace. Shrugging his shoulders he leans into the cushion. “You probably know more than me."

“True.” Kulich takes another swallow of the dark liquid in his glass. “But I wasn’t the one stuck in my target's basement."

“Attic,” Colt corrects, looking down.

“Whatever—how's the side?"

“Hardly feel it.” Colt presses into the healing flesh and feels the padded gauze. He doesn’t know why he keeps doing that. It’s an unconscious move, but he can’t stop himself from feeling the presence of the wound every couple of hours.

“Doc’s coming over to give you a once over.” Kulich turns his head toward the door and Colt brings his hand up to silence him from calling a guard.

“Vladimir.” His boss glances over at him. “I'm fine."

“Don’t argue." Kulich sets the empty glass down. “You look like shit. When's the last time you saw the inside of a shower? Or sunlight for that matter?"

“Came straight from the road—gimme a break."

“That Rebecca Appleton didn’t do such a great fucking job of taking care of you I guess."

How does he know her name?

Colt shifts in his seat as his mouth twists. “It's fine. Can we cut this girly-shit and talk business or what?"

Kulich straightens, pulling the robe tighter around his hairy naked chest as he crosses his legs. “Rebecca Appleton is a part of this mission now. You understand that right?"

“I understand she saved my life,” Colt says, his voice low.

“She certainly did and I'm sure you're fucking grateful, Colt.” Kulich’s dark eyes stare at him, peeling back a layer of Colt’s stoic features. “What went on between the two of you up there, anyway?” Colt makes sure not to tense up and waits as silence stretches between them.

“Don't think I like what you're implying."

Chuckling, Kulich smooths his hand down the silk material of his leg. “Chill, man. She's a kid, I know.” He shakes his head. "I know you won’t go there."

Stretching out his legs Colt fingers the line of his brow. He doesn’t like her name coming from Kulich’s mouth. It makes him angry, uncomfortable. But he can’t show his emotions. So he tries again to change the subject. “How’ve things been here?"

Kulich lingers a beat before answering, “Good. Business is the same but good. No trouble but Spencer fucking Appleton.”

Colt feels icy awareness quake below the flesh of his body. He ignores it. He’s beginning to do that a lot lately.

“What’d you want me to do?"

Kulich scratches the side his face. “Finish what you started."

“Kill him?"

Kulich doesn’t blink as he grants Colt a dark look. “And his family."

Colt swallows. He’d known this was coming. He’d kept repeating the words in his head all the way home, thinking of a million different answers but none of them fitted.

“Don't think that's possible."

“Why the fuck not?” Kulich’s words sound quieter than his thundering black eyes. Colt's thumb swipes across the arm of the chair.

“It's sloppy—they might be expecting it."

“Right… Aren’t you curious how I know her first name?” Colt shrugs his shoulders, feigning indifference. “Yeah… thought as much… So I had a nice little visit at Spencer and his family’s by the way. Rebecca—oh sweet green-eyed Rebecca—she’s got extraordinary eyes, don’t you think?" Colt squeezes his hand into a fist. “That fucker is arrogant enough to think I’ve no idea."

Colt leans a bit forward. “You threatened them?” he asks, keeping his voice and face neutral.

“Just Spencer. He's a bit slow but he got the general message. The little shit is an accountant, Colt. He's gonna try and suck up to me to make this right. He doesn't have a fucking clue."

“Why the family?"

“The girl saw you. She knows—”

“Doesn't know who I am. Never told her,” Colt says, his voice rising.

Kulich nods, seeming to agree, but on a completely different train of thought. “When that bastard father of hers is dead it won’t be long before she puts two-and-two together. I ain’t taking that chance—no fucking way."

Jaw clenched, Colt looks away. His voice is harsh and hoarse when he speaks, “How’d you want it?"

Kulich stands adjusting his robe again, then plays with the gold ring on his finger. When he finally decides to meet Colt's hard glare, Kulich looks colder, more unforgiving and ruthless than Colt remembers him to be.