Dare You to Run (23 page)

Which was why he was going to find her. Well, one of the reasons anyway. She was also his payment and, as fortune had it, she was going to be far more valuable than he'd first suspected.

Because now, Carl Davis wanted her. That was one payment Tyler intended to take. It would secure his future.

*   *   *

“I really do appreciate what you have all done for me, but I can't stand by and allow you to put yourselves at risk,” Damascus stated once they were back in the house. Really, it was sort of a grand cottage, with stone walls, rounded stones that had lush greenery climbing up. Under different circumstances, she would have been charmed down to her toes, but seeing the serious expressions of the men with her, there was no way to ignore the very pressing facts about her circumstances.

“What are you going to do when you get back?” It was Saxon who took the professional route, asking his question in a tone devoid of emotion.

“I will deal with Jeb.” It wasn't really a lie. Of course she knew Vitus would call her on holding back information, but she couldn't afford the luxury of shielding his emotions. This was about keeping him and his brother alive.

“How?” It was Dunn who asked the pointed question.

“I will make it clear that I know what he's been up to and I will disclose it to the media.”

Her response was met with three blank looks. She bristled under the hard judgment because that was exactly what it was. She could feel herself being measured and found lacking.

“Excuse me.” Her temper was rising. “But I know him. Jeb will do anything to avoid a scandal. That's what this all boils down to. I told him I was going to marry you and he didn't see it as a fine enough match—”

“You what?” Vitus demanded.

Damascus shut her mouth, realizing too late that she'd spilled the beans. Vitus hooked her arm and turned her around.

“Excuse us,” he muttered as he swept her through the doorway and into the bedroom.

*   *   *

“I didn't see that coming,” Saxon muttered.

“Bull,” Greer argued. “Those two hopped each other the second they were in range. Only an idiot would miss how stuck on him she is.”

“And her daddy disapproves,” Dunn muttered. He was thinking, rolling facts through his brain as he considered what he'd observed. “Only, she doesn't call him her father.”

Saxon had been twirling a pen between his fingers. It froze as he shared a look with Dunn. “No, she doesn't.” He shook his head. “Okay, she got me. I believed her this morning when she laid down that line about not wanting to marry my brother.”

“You heard what you wanted to hear,” Greer said, acknowledging the pitfall they all knew better than to stumble into. Damascus had managed to dupe them all. “She's protecting him.”

“She's playing a game she isn't equipped to compete in,” Dunn said in a hard tone.

“What makes you say that?” Saxon asked.

Dunn shifted his attention to Saxon, taking a moment to decide how much he was planning to say. “Her daddy's name is all over the press, linked with Carl Davis. I seem to recall seeing a picture of you, with her, outside of a private club where she was having a dinner date with Davis. One she looked like she wanted out of.”

“She did,” Saxon confirmed.

Dunn tilted his head to the side. “I seriously doubt Jeb Ryland values his daughter's happiness above his own political agenda. Carl Davis wants the carefully groomed reputation her father has made certain she has. The only blip on the radar is your brother. It's also her only soft spot. Her daddy wants him dead, so she falls into line and is traumatized enough to never step out of order again.”

“I'd have to agree,” Saxon answered, beginning to turn the pen once more as he thought things through.

“Only she isn't scaring too easily.” Greer supplied the conclusion.

“And she decided to shield Vitus, until I showed back up on her daddy's radar,” Saxon finished.

There was a thud as something hit the closed bedroom door. All three men looked at it for a moment, turning away when another thud came through the solid wood.

Dunn slowly smiled. A moment later, the pen Saxon had been holding hit him in the side of the head. He jumped, whirling on Saxon only to meet a solid, unrepentant stare.

“Can't fault me for admiring the lady's sass,” Dunn said.

“She's my brother's girl, so yes, I can,” Saxon responded.

Dunn offered him a grin that flashed his teeth at him before he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

*   *   *

“Get out.”

Damascus turned on him, but Vitus only closed the door.

“We're going to talk,” he informed her with every bit of confidence she expected from him.

She bent down and picked up a boot that was sitting on a shoe rack and heaved it at him. His eyes widened and he twisted out of the way so that the boot hit the door. The smack was somewhat satisfying, so she grabbed the second one.

“Out.” She held her ammunition up, the threat clear.

“Which is it?” Vitus crossed his arms over his chest and stood his ground. “Did you refuse to marry me or tell your father you were going to?”

“It's none of your business.” She launched the boot at his head. He avoided it again, frustrating her completely.

“If you had only listened to me,” she hissed at him, “when I came to see you that night, we wouldn't be here.”

“Oh, I heard you.” His tone had dropped, setting off a ripple that went straight down her spine, leaving a trail of tingles along the way. It was the voice he used when he was touching her. She recognized it on some deep level, in that same place where thoughts stopped and reactions took over.

He stepped closer, the very way his body moved hypnotizing her.

“Every move you make gains my attention, Princess.”

He was her lover in that moment. She felt her insides melting, heating for him. Facts were little insignificant things, scattered at her feet. But she pulled back, grasping at the straws of her resolve.

“He will kill you,” she whispered. “Jeb is obsessed with making a run for the White House. Nothing matters to him unless it supports that goal.” She spread her hands out. “I'm poison.”

“You're stuck,” he corrected her, “in a trap that no one should have to deal with. Your father is a massive prick.”

She smiled, taking solace in a moment of commiseration. “Bad guys win, Vitus. A lot.”

His lips rose into a knowing twist. “No kidding.”

He reached out, gently brushing her hair back from her ear. The cut had been throbbing on and off throughout the day, but now she shied away because it seemed like a sign of her inability to deal with what life was throwing at her.

“Don't.”

The single word was uttered in a low tone but it held the snap of a whip, just another part of Vitus's mesmerizing persona. He could captivate her with a rough whisper, never needing to raise his voice to get his point across. No, he did that with sheer force of will.

He was touching her again, his fingertips gliding along her jaw line, just barely making contact, yet rocking her down to her core. That's what he did to her, melted away everything and left her exposed.

“Don't shoulder the blame, Princess.” He drew his fingers back along her jaw line, sending a ripple of sensation down her body. “He isn't worthy of that.”

“I'm not.” She knew what she meant to say, but her body was far more interested in just feeling, responding to his touch. She was arching, turning toward him as he swept her hair away from her ear again and leaned down to look at the injury.

“This,” he rasped next to her ear, “is a mark of valor.” He tucked her hair back, standing just an inch from her. “Proof that you didn't roll over for your daddy's plan for you, that you dug deep and found the strength to fight back.”

She shivered. Her eyes flooded with tears as she absorbed the compliment in his tone. He threaded his fingers through her hair, cradling her head and bringing her face to meet his. Their gazes locked and for a moment—she wasn't alone.

That knowledge was both balm and salt in her wounds. She longed to have someone to lean on and at the same time, she yearned to be worthy of him too, which meant shielding him just as surely as he would do for her.

He was moving toward her, the fingers on her nape easing her just a little closer so that he might seal her lips beneath his.

“No.” She managed a last protest, the sound of her voice cracking broke some of the hold her rioting emotions had over her. He might have pressed the issue, taken her mouth and sealed her resistance beneath his lips. The fact that he didn't stiffened her resolve.

“I can't just take refuge in your embrace.” She wanted to, ached to. It was a craving, a hunger tearing her insides to shreds as she forced herself to place her hands on his chest and push him back.

“Yes you can.” He didn't release her. She felt the resistance in his body, heard the denial in his tone.

“No, I have to be better than that.” She increased the amount of pressure she was putting on him. “I can't be your Princess. Always in need of saving. I have to be more. You of all people should understand that kind of need. I have to be able to face myself and know I'm not like Jeb.”

He made a soft sound under his breath, his frustration clear. She was free a moment later, feeling like her knees were going to buckle without his body there to support her.

“I hear you.” It sounded like those three words had been some of the hardest he'd ever pushed past his lips. Part of her enjoyed that, because he wanted to do nothing more than what she did, which was to strip down and indulge their whims.

But that would leave a sour taste in her mouth. He knew it too, saw it in his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest and contemplated her.

“Good.” The only problem is, it didn't feel right. No, when she'd been a hairbreadth from his lips, she'd felt right. Now, she had all the correct motivation and it didn't satisfy her, not completely.

Vitus shook his head, stepping toward her. She felt his approach like an encroachment, as if he was about to breach her defenses. Excitement twisted through her but there was a twinge of bitterness too. She knew she was going to give in.

“Not even close, Princess.”

She bumped into the bed and sat down on it hard, the mattress swaying like some sort of preamble to her defeat. He kept coming forward until he had his hands pressed on either side of her shoulders and she was flat on her back. For a moment she stared into his eyes, those Caribbean Sea eyes, and believed that everything she longed for was close at hand. His scent filled her senses, her skin awakening with a thousand little receptors that were picking up his body heat.

It would be so simple to fold, to just give over to him.

“‘Good' would be stripping you down,” he said softly. “Rubbing you, the way you like to be petted, listening for the little sounds you make when I stroke you just the right way.” His eyes narrowed as he straightened up. She was trembling, nothing but a mass of quivering muscles on the surface of the bed.

“You'd relax, let everything go,” he continued.

She nodded, pushing herself up.

“I like to take you to that place, Princess.… I'm the only man who can.”

“You're not a man who accepts being used,” she countered. “You deserve better.”

For a moment, something flashed in his eyes that she hadn't seen before. She realized she was getting a glimpse at his deepest feelings, but it was masked again before she really had time to absorb it. Vitus was taking a step back, withdrawing from her. She felt it keenly, like he was being ripped off her skin.

“I understand the need to stand on your own two feet and to know I respect your ability to do it.” His tone had tightened. Vitus gave her a single nod as he took another step away, his fingers gripping the sleeves of his shirt.

“But I don't think there is anything good about it,” he growled. “I want to get inside you, drive everything out of your mind except the feel of me. That would be my definition of ‘perfect.' Except that I heard you loud and clear. And you're right. I actually want more than you using me as a bandage.”

He got it. For one moment she was satisfied, but it shattered like a bubble of hot glass when he turned and left. The door closed, the sound vibrating through her bones, shaking her to her foundation.

Well, that was where she was, wasn't it? At the bottom, ready to climb to the top of the hill and see what was on the other side? It was a grand idea, one that would certainly fill her with hope and anticipation.

At least it would just as soon as she finished reeling from the separation.

*   *   *

He needed to think.

One simple idea had never been so difficult for him to wrap his mind around. Vitus was in the kitchen before he realized he was just in motion, because if he stopped, he was pretty sure he was going to toss aside what he knew was right in favor of doing what he craved.

He wanted her.

The need was pulsing through him, moving deeper than anything else and more overpowering as well. It was more than sexual hunger. He knew that bite. This was a more complex yearning, something rooted in more than just his cock. Sure, he was rock hard and needed release, but he hadn't been blowing smoke about wanting to stroke her.

So he poured a cup of coffee and sipped it as he leaned against the countertop. His lips stung, proving that his skin was still ultrasensitive. Vitus took another long drink.

“Sure you need the joe to stay awake?” Saxon asked from the doorway.

“I don't.”

Saxon weighted his tone before moving into the kitchen. “It makes sense now. If she told her father she was going to marry you, it all falls into place.”

Vitus nodded, his mind wrapped around a far different problem. Damascus had always been his target, the woman he'd been sent to save. Did she love him or her idea of him? And was that a fair question to ask of himself as well?