Dare You to Run (31 page)

“You've sure enough been flung into a mess.” His tone had deepened.

Damascus nodded, once. “It's time for me to take action.”

“Interesting choice of words,” he said as he took a step toward her. “Carl Davis can't marry you if you've already got a husband, and one that he can't make disappear. Marry Greer McRae. He's a Scottish national.”

“Oh for Christ's sake. What is it with men and the idea that I need to be married?”

Dunn didn't take offense. He watched her, his eyes starting to sparkle with amusement.

“You know what? Forget I asked you for help,” she informed him.

Dunn shook his head. “I never forget, and it's a good solution. You want out of your father's world. Marrying Greer would get you there.”

“And my mother will be stuck.”

“I can take care of her too,” he continued. “Greer is family. I take care of my family.”

“So what's in it for you?” The question was out of her mouth before she really thought about it. But she didn't regret giving into impulse. She got the impression she'd get a lot further with Dunn by taking the direct approach.

His expression became unreadable, but another chill touched her. A man like him didn't know how to do anything except play for keeps. He had something up his sleeve all right.

“Let's deal with the immediate issues first,” he said.

Damascus recoiled. “I will not marry Greer.”

“That's fucking right,” Vitus said from the doorway.

Dunn growled, but Vitus only flashed him a look that made it clear he'd enjoy Dunn starting a fight because it would give him an excuse to finish it.

“It's a good solution,” Dunn said as Saxon and Vitus came into the office. “Admit it.”

Vitus lifted his hand and flipped Dunn the bird before he moved closer to Damascus, planting himself in front of her like a shield. What pissed her off was just how much she enjoyed knowing he wanted to mark his territory. Why in the hell did he always reduce her to such primitive emotions? She had a PhD for Christ's sake. She had a cultivated and educated mind. But with him, she was nothing but a bundle of receptors, and all of them were hardwired to her sex drive.

“No,” Damascus interjected. “Admit that I need to go back and face Jeb. That's what I came in here to discuss.”

“I hate that idea too.” Vitus sent her a look that made it clear he was furious. Damascus sent it right back, but her damn nipples started puckering, undermining her resolve completely.

“My mother is in a hospital. I won't ignore that.”

Vitus surprised her by nodding. “We don't expect you to, Princess.”

For a moment, she felt a sickening twist in her belly. She could take a lot of things from life, but having Vitus turn into her jailer was one thing she was pretty sure she couldn't deal with. He was the man she fell apart in front of, the only soul on the face of the planet who had seen her stripped down to the core.

“Don't tell me you're going to make me stay here.” Her voice was a mere whisper because she knew she'd lose it if she spoke any louder.

“I want to,” he confirmed in a solid, firm tone.

“But we have orders,” Saxon interrupted. “So, none of us are getting what we want today.”

Vitus's expression cracked, giving Damascus a glimpse at the raw pain he was feeling. Her knees nearly buckled, because she'd never seen him afraid, never even suspected he felt such an emotion. But there it was in his eyes.

No matter what happened, she was going to carry that look with her because it told her what she meant to him, confirming that she was as destructive to his world as he was to hers. What did that mean? She wasn't sure she could put it into words, only feel the burn of it as it traveled through her, leaving behind a brand that she knew she would cherish for the rest of her days.

The fact was, she was going to have to live with it because fate wasn't going to be kind enough to let them have a happily ever after.

No, she couldn't ask for that much. Reality was too sharp for anything so wonderful, but maybe, just maybe, she might be able to trap her sire into hanging himself. One thing was for sure—she was going to make sure he had enough rope for the job.

*   *   *

Tyler Martin looked at his phone as it buzzed. The line was restricted, giving him hope that something was about to break. He needed it, more than he cared to admit. Carl Davis was getting impatient, which meant his confidence was falling.

That was something Tyler couldn't afford, not when he was so close to getting everything he wanted. He wouldn't allow it.

“Meet me,” his ex-boss stated clearly. The line went dead a second later so that Tyler wouldn't have time to trace it.

Tyler slipped the phone back into his suit jacket pocket and started toward the door. Jeb Ryland's office door opened.

“Where are you going?” Tension was showing on the congressman's face. There were deep circles beneath his eyes and a pinched look to his features.

“Running down a possible lead.”

Tyler was gone before Jeb had a chance to question him further. Tyler was getting close to being out of patience with the man, something else he admitted he really couldn't allow himself the luxury of. He'd burned a lot of bridges to get into a good position with Jeb Ryland. Bridges that people like Kagan wouldn't forget Tyler had torched.

But Kagan had called him. Sure, it might be a setup but Tyler kept his mind focused on the facts that were stacked against Kagan. His ex-boss might be devoted to justice, but not completely. If Kagan had been unshakable, Tyler would be dead. It was a hard, cold fact, one that sent a little shiver down his spine while he was driving. He'd been helpless, completely in Kagan's power after he'd failed to take out Vitus and Saxon Hale the last time. It would have been simple for Kagan to shoot him and make apologies after the fact. Tyler had to admit that it was very possible Ryland would have let the matter go. After all, dead was dead and there wasn't anything much to be done about it once the trigger had been pulled.

But Kagan hadn't done it and that revealed something about him that Tyler intended to use. Kagan wasn't the all-American Boy Scout he put on he was. No. There was part of him that was just as realistic as Tyler was. A core that Kagan had kept to himself.

Well, today was the day to exploit that part of Kagan. Who knew? It might just be the beginning of a very lucrative partnership.

*   *   *

The plane they boarded had a bedroom in the back. Damascus eagerly went into it, ripping the wig off that Vitus had insisted she wear. Red hair was such a pain in the ass at times. She sat down on the bed, realizing she was avoiding Vitus. More to the point, she was putting off the argument she knew he was spoiling to have with her.

She sighed, feeling drained—and the hard part was yet to come.

Okay, maybe that wasn't quite so. Dealing with Jeb wasn't going to be taxing on her emotions, but Vitus? She was pretty sure she would carry those scars with her for the rest of her life.

That made her sigh again. She didn't want to fight with him, didn't want to squander their last few hours on bickering. So she sat on the bed as the plane taxied and the jets revved up for takeoff. It made the moment more real, her mouth going dry as she watched the clouds come into view through a small oval window next to the bed. Time felt like it was slipping through her grasp, which only made her more desperate to grip it.

When the door opened and Vitus joined her, one look at his expression was enough to nudge her closer to the edge of depression.

“You're mad at me,” she said without hesitation.

Vitus hadn't knocked. He had come in and closed the door behind him, standing for a long moment just considering her with his blue eyes.

“That's right, I am. ‘Furious' is actually a more accurate word,” he confirmed. “And hiding back here isn't going to keep me from following you so that we can discuss it.”

She was sitting on the bed, still looking out one of the windows. For a moment she contemplated whether or not to talk to him.

Vitus folded his arms over his chest. “What? The silent treatment now, Princess? Telling me what you think suddenly scares you?”

“I don't want to fight.” She suddenly smiled and shrugged when his eyes narrowed. “That's one reason, but every time we start to have a conversation in a bedroom, we get … distracted.” She blushed.

Understanding dawned on him instantly, his expression tightening in a purely sexual way. She recognized it, in more ways than just with her vision. It was like some unspoken communication between them, some critical need that overrode everything else when the opportunity was at hand.

Yeah, like going into heat.

“You shouldn't have gone to Dunn.” He was fighting to keep his focus.

She heard the wounded pride in his tone and recognized her mistake. Only it wasn't really an error, not when she recalled just how much her sire wanted Vitus dead. Both of them were going to have to learn to live with reality.

“I love you, Vitus.”

He pressed his lips into a hard line, his eyes narrowing.

“So don't fault me for having the same need to protect you. Jeb will kill you, and I can't let that happen. I'll use any means of stopping it, even if it you hate me for it.”

He wanted to argue with her. She watched the desire glitter in his eyes.

“You'd do the same,” she continued.

“That doesn't mean I like it,” he grunted.

“I didn't think you would, but I'm not going to sit by helpless. You'd get mighty bored by that sort of woman.”

Direct hit. She watched her words impact, saw the moment when his pride reared its head, before he ended up shaking his head while embracing the fact that she'd called it right.

Damascus smiled. She really shouldn't have, but it was a compliment, and one so completely suited to Vitus. It warmed her from the inside out, cracking the ice that had been freezing over her heart at the prospect of returning home.

“You don't have to leave me.”

He was reading her face again but there seemed little point in trying to hide anything. Very soon, she'd have all the time in the world to sit in silence.

“Believe me, Princess.” He was darn near shouting at her, but he was also holding her hands. Vitus Hale, who drove her insane with lust and pushed buttons she hadn't known she had, was gently cradling her fingers like a devoted suitor.

It sent tears into her eyes. He made another sound in the back of his throat and leaned forward to kiss her. It was a soft, lingering kiss he pressed against her lips as he rubbed her fingers.

“I love you, Princess.” He sat back and dug something out of his pocket. The light coming through the window glittered off a diamond. “Wear it, say you'll marry me.”

“I remember this—” her voice caught as tears stung her eyes and her fingers trembled as she reached for it.

“That's not an answer,” he said softly, hiding his emotions in a gruff whisper.

Damascus locked gazes with him as she pushed the ring down her finger with a firm motion. She watched his lips lift into a very satisfied grin.

“How's that?” she asked.

Vitus lifted Damascus's hand, looking at the ring on it for a long moment. Victory glittered in his eyes, killing whatever she had been thinking of saying. All she wanted to do was soak up the look of happiness on his face, let it seep deep into her core, where she'd be able to remember it.

Damascus leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his neck, the scent of his skin filling her senses, intoxicating her. She went into it willingly, eagerly reaching for him, finding the buttons on his dress shirt and working them loose.

“You're redirecting, Princess.…”

“So tell me to stop.” She'd opened four buttons and undid his tie, giving her a magnificent view of his chest. She stroked him, smiling as he sucked in his breath.

“It would be a bald-faced lie,” he confessed as he stood up and opened the cuffs of his shirt before shrugging out of it.

She kicked her shoes off before standing. She'd started to grab the sides of the dress when he shook his head and clicked his tongue at her.

“Easy now, Princess.” He cupped the sides of her face, holding her still as he locked gazes with her. “This time is going to be slow and steady.”

She trembled from excitement and anticipation. The firm connection of their lips curled her toes. The sensation shot down her spine, through her core and along her legs as he worked his mouth against hers, coaxing her to open and let him tease her tongue with his own. The moment became an eternity that she was a willing captive inside of. There was no desire to leave, because she was inside a bubble of pure bliss. She was twisting, writhing with all the points of stimulation and in no hurry to rush to the conclusion.

“That's it.” He was trailing kisses along her cheek and then onto her jaw line. “I want to taste you.”

And she wanted to touch him. Damascus threaded her fingers through the hair on his chest, enjoying the crispness of it, the sheer maleness. His skin was satin but covered muscles that were rock hard. She purred softly, feeling herself melting. The heat was rising from inside her, making her dress the most uncomfortable thing she'd ever worn.

He sensed it, moving his hands down her body to grasp the fabric and pull it up. She let out a little sigh of satisfaction when it was gone and tossed aside.

“You're so perfect, Princess.” He reached out and cupped her breasts, brushing his thumbs over her nipples as they drew into tight points. “I saw these in my dreams for three fucking years. Every damn time I closed my eyes, you were there.” She heard the frustration in his voice, or maybe she felt her own. Once again they were counterparts, two sides of the same coin. He leaned over, opening his mouth and sealing his lips around one of her nipples. She gasped, enjoyment racing along her nerve endings. He'd slipped one arm around her back, supporting her as she arched and offered her breast.