Do You Trust Me? (2 page)

Move,
her inner voice
commanded, but not one of her muscles would obey.

He traced the seam of
her lips with his tongue, an artist’s stroke painting the surface. A tiny sound
whispered from her mouth. As if it were a signal he was waiting for, he captured
her in a kiss so hot it burned her lips. His hands cupped her face, holding her
in place while he fed on her, his tongue pressing inside and tasting the
texture of her flesh.

She gripped his
wrists but not to pull them away. She couldn’t have broken the kiss if someone
paid her to.

Time stood still
while he devoured every corner of her mouth, his fingers lean and hot against
her cheeks. When he lifted his head, his silver eyes had darkened to almost
black.

Rina felt dazed and
weak.

He studied her face,
his breathing uneven. “Two choices. Either tell me to leave or tell me where
your bedroom is.”

She had trouble
getting the words out. “Upstairs. Last door on the right.”

He kept his eyes
riveted to hers, something unidentifiable lurking in them. “I won’t hurt you.”

Her breath caught in
her throat. “I didn’t think you would.”

“All right, then.”

He lifted her, as if
she were weightless, and took the stairs two at a time. Inside her bedroom, he
set her feet carefully on the floor and drowned her in another of his kisses.
With his mouth still fused to hers, he backed her up to the bed, sliding his
hands under her T-shirt and cupping her breasts.

Rina thought she
might faint, his touch was so arousing. Her panties were soaked enough just
from the kisses that she was afraid the evidence of her arousal would slide
down her thighs. She was hardly aware of him lifting the T-shirt over her head,
unclasping her bra, and tossing both to the side.

“Jesus.” His long
fingers plucked at her nipples, chafing them, teasing them into diamond-hard
points.

When he lowered his
mouth to take one nipple between his lips, she nearly fell backwards. The wet
heat of his mouth made her nipples throb. He moaned softly against her flesh,
the sound reverberating through her body.

“I think we have too
many clothes on.” His voice was heavy with desire. He made quick work of her
shorts and thong, guiding her onto the bed before stripping off his own
clothing. He reached down and snapped on the bedside lamp.

Rina’s eyes widened
as she took in the lean, fit body with its matte of dark hair curling on his
chest. It arrowed over a flat abdomen to his groin, forming a nest around the
most impressive erection she’d ever seen in her life. The flat head of his cock
was a deep purple and ropy veins pulsed beneath the skin. The sac of his
testicles rested against his thighs, heavy and tempting.

He lay down beside
her, pulling her into another hot kiss, one hand caressing her breasts, gliding
over the slope of her flesh, rasping at her already swollen nipples. When he
moved his mouth to bite gently on one of them, her insides convulsed.

One arm slid beneath
her, arching her back to give him better access to her breasts while the other hand
traced feathery patterns over her belly and down to her mound. When one finger
parted her labia and stroked the already-slick flesh, she whimpered and lifted
herself into his touch.

He was like a tiger
unleashed. Feral and hungry. He touched her everywhere and with a need so great
it shocked her. His skin was hot, burning her, and her own hunger rose to meet
his.

With one last, brief
thought for her lack of sanity, she fell into the maelstrom his touch created. Her
pulse throbbed in her everywhere. A lightning storm couldn’t have generated
more power.

His mouth nibbled,
sucked, his tongue licking a trail over her feverish skin from nipples to cunt.
He was a master of torment. If she’d been able to think at all, she’d have
wondered how this grim, silent man had become such an accomplished lover.

Her nipples felt as
if they were bathed in liquid heat, each nip of his teeth sending jolts
directly to her womb. His fingers parted the lips of her sex, tracing a line
from end to end as he focused on her breasts. When he slid two fingers into her
waiting heat, the tips curled to search for her sweet spot. His thumb pressed
on her bundled nerves, massaging with a steady stroke.

“God, you feel good,”
he breathed. “You are so wet it feels like heaven. I’ll bet it tastes even
better.”

Shifting, he knelt
between her legs and, with his hands cupping her ass, lifted her to his mouth.
The moment his lips closed on her, she spasmed, her inner walls fluttering. He
held her in a firm grip as he teased and tormented her until she felt as if
flames were licking at her. His tongue glided in and out, scraping over every
inch of her wet channel.

He was voracious,
eating at her like a starving man. When her first orgasm rolled over her and
she poured into his mouth, he lapped greedily at her juices. When the spasms
slowed, he began again, lapping at her, stroking her with his tongue, driving
her up the erotic spiral of hunger until she had no control of her own body.
Again she convulsed, hips jerking in his grasp, the walls of her sex grabbing
at his tongue as she shook uncontrollably.

And still he worked
her relentlessly. When the third orgasm overtook her, she shattered completely,
every muscle in her body clenching, the flesh of her pussy quivering. Splinters
of her consciousness tumbled through the air, and colors flashed behind her
closed eyelids.

Finally, he lowered
her hips to the bed.

Exhausted, she lay
back on the pillows. Surely now he would give her a moment to rest.

But rest wasn’t in
McCall’s vocabulary. Moving up, he straddled her so his swollen shaft bobbed at
her lips.

“Take me,” he
whispered in a hoarse voice. “Let me feel your lips on me. Come on, Rina. Suck
me with that hot, sweet mouth. Just thinking about it is driving me crazy.”

Automatically, she
opened her mouth. Taking his shaft in one hand, he guided himself past her
teeth until he was pressing on her tongue. She began to drag on him with her
lips and swirl her tongue around the velvet flesh covering solid steel. Her
fingers wrapped around him to give herself better leverage. His testicles
pressed against her chin as she pulled and sucked, his taste a heady flavor.

“Stop.” Abruptly, he jerked
away.

“What...”

“I’m so ready, and I
don’t want to come in your mouth. Not this time.”

He shifted off her
and, with practiced ease, flipped her over to her stomach, tugging her up to
her knees. His fingers slipped into her, gathering her moisture and painting it
on the tight ring of her rear opening.

She shivered. “McCall?”

“I don’t have a
condom with me so we have to improvise. You’ll like this. I promise. Trust me,
Rina.”

He began working
first one, then two fingers into her rectum, preparing her, one hand on her
belly, holding her up tight to him. She tensed at his first invasion, muscles
clenching to shut him out.

“You’ve never done
this, have you?”

She shook her head.

“Take a deep breath,”
he told her and pressed the head of his cock against her puckered opening.

At first it burned,
his penis so big and thick it stretched her unbearably. But then, with a tiny pop,
he was past the entrance and moving steadily to fill her. The burn turned from
painful to delicious as hot and cold chased through her system, igniting nerves
she didn’t even know she had, setting the pulse in her womb to throbbing with a
deep, insistent beat. Whatever functioning brain cells she might have had left
disappeared as he pushed her onto a plane of arousal beyond anything she’d ever
felt before.

“Breathe,” he told
her again.

Then he was all the
way in, pumping his cock in a steady rhythm, the thick length rasping the
sensitive skin inside the dark tunnel along the way. His balls slapped against
the backs of her thighs, his arm like steel supported her, his hand spread
across her belly to hold her to him tightly. She fisted her hands in a pillow
and breathed through her mouth as he increased the pace of his strokes. Harder,
faster, he filled and retreated, filled and retreated. Up and up the spiral she
went again, every muscle quivering, every nerve firing.

His body tightened
and clenched, his fingers pressed harder into her belly. When she felt the
first splash of his cum, she climaxed, rockets exploding through her and
hurtling her into space. The orgasm wracked her body, shaking her even more
than the last one. McCall’s body pressed into hers as he rode out his own
convulsions.

Exhausted and spent, sore
everywhere, she simply collapsed. He lay atop her, still shuddering. Sweat
slicked their skin, and their hearts beat like kettle drums. She would have
easily fallen asleep that way, his cock still impaled in her ass, but he
withdrew from her slowly and turned her over.

“Shower,” he
murmured.

She shook her head,
trying to burrow back into the pillows.

McCall made a sound
suspiciously like a chuckle, then simply rose from the bed and gathered her up
in his arms. In her shower, he bathed her as one might wash a baby, gently, his
fingers probing all the right places, washing away the remnants of the most
explosive sex she had ever experienced in her life. When he was satisfied they
were both clean, he dried them off with her big towels, carried her back to the
bed, and tucked her under the covers. She thought he bent and kissed her, but
it could have been her imagination.

She slept dreamlessly
and woke feeling pleasantly sore. Her hand stretched out, seeking human flesh,
the memories of last night springing to life in her mind, but the space next to
her in bed was empty.

McCall was gone.

Chapter Two

Sitting in the car
now next to McCall, seeing his body rigid with anger, her memory of that night
hit her with a visceral punch. Heat flooded her body, and she felt an automatic dampness at her crotch. In a minute, the tiny pulse in her cunt would begin to throb. Imprinted on her brain was his forcefulness, the power of the sex they’d shared, his total
command of her body. He was the complete alpha male in every way.

Deliberately she
forced the overwhelming lust from her mind, giving her body silent commands. The
last thing she needed right now was to react this way to a man who’d fucked her
senseless, then left like a thief in the night without a word. Sex should be
the furthest thing from her mind. But damn it to hell anyway. Just being next
to him turned her on. What rotten luck that he’d be the one to rescue her
tonight, kick starting her sleeping hormones.

“Where are we going?”
She dabbed at her nose again and wished once more for a year’s supply of
aspirin.

“You’ll see when we
get there.” There was a hard edge to his voice. “Someplace where we could lock
you up if the choice was up to me.”

And thank you so very
much, asshole.

They’d left downtown Tampa behind long ago and were moving through the quiet streets of the northern suburbs. She
couldn’t tell if the heat rolling off him was anger or sexual tension or both.
Whatever it was, it ramped up her own confused feelings and didn’t help her
state of mind at all.

At last, McCall
pulled up in front of a three-story motel with an understated appearance. He
drove around to the back and parked the car at the far end of the building. Taking
her arm in a tight grip, he helped her from the car and half-dragged her to an
end entrance that opened into a long corridor. At the second door he stopped,
knocked twice, then twice again. A man Rina had never seen opened the door and
gestured them inside.

The room itself was
unremarkable, a carbon copy of a million other oversized motel rooms. This one
was set up for business meetings, with doors that led to bedrooms on either
side. What caught her attention was the man who rose from the table and came
forward to greet her.

“Hello, Rina. It
seems you’ve given us a tiny problem tonight.” He was smiling, but there was
little warmth in his tone.

Sullivan Raines, six-foot-two
with steel gray hair and impenetrable black eyes, was the leader of the task
force, the man who’d put it together. Rumors said he was closer to the
president than the first lady, and his opinion counted for more than the
president’s chief advisor. Rina had met him when John joined the team and seen
him on two other occasions when he arranged for brother and sister to spend
some time together. He’d always been warm and welcoming. Not tonight.

“I guess you’re not
too happy with me,” she said in a wry voice.

“A masterpiece of
understatement, Rina.”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

He held up a hand to
cut her off. “Stop. Forget about apologizing. You’ve precipitated a situation
here that we need to deal with at once.” He looked her over from head to toe,
taking in her appearance. “But why don’t we get you cleaned up first and into
something not hanging from you in tatters. You need that nose looked at, too,
and probably some ice for your head.”

“I’ll be fine,” she
protested.

“Fine?” Raines shook
his head. “I don’t think so. And you’re not exactly in a position to argue with
me.” He turned to McCall and pointed to the inside bedroom. “Give her that
room. There should be a robe in the bathroom, courtesy of the hotel. Check the
damage to her face and her head and find some aspirin. I’ll order coffee.”

“I can take care of
myself,” she objected, trying once again to gain some kind of control.

But McCall was
already hauling her into the connecting bedroom and on through to the bathroom.
Sure enough, a thick terry robe hung on a hook on the back of the door. He checked
the supplies to make sure she had everything she needed, then turned on the
shower for her.

“Don’t think you’re
going to bathe me,” she snapped, although visions of it danced tantalizingly in
her brain. His big hands soaping her body, his lean fingers probing her secret places, his mouth hot on her—stop!

She gave herself a
vicious mental shake. This was neither the time nor place for such erotic
daydreams, and McCall’s noticeable absence in her life since their one night
together was a good indication of his lack of interest.

Quit daydreaming,
stupid. You can’t climb the walls he’s put up.

“I’ll be right
outside,” he told her as if she hadn’t said a word.

She resisted the urge
to slam the door after him.

Her clothes were
unsalvageable, so she simply threw them in the trash. Somehow she’d figure out
how to get new ones.

She stopped to take a
look at herself in the bathroom mirror and almost wished she hadn’t. Her
normally alabaster skin was paler than usual, making the bruises on her nose
and face stand out even more. Fatigue and stress had dulled her emerald green
eyes and drawn black smudges beneath them. Stepping under the shower spray, she
gratefully let the hot water cascade over her sore and aching body. Using the
washcloth, she carefully cleaned the blood from her nose, guessing that while
it would probably swell to the size of a football, it didn’t seem broken.

When she’d washed
away every trace of dirt and blood, she used the tiny bottle of shampoo to wash
her hair. Finally, she stood under the shower until she felt waterlogged.

Maybe I can stay in
here all night. That way I won’t have to answer any questions. Or face McCall
again.

A heavy pounding on
the door brought her back to reality.

“Rina?” McCall’s
voice sounded like gravel. “Do I need to come in there and get you?”

She turned off the
shower and pulled back the curtain, reaching for a towel. “Not if you value
your life. I’m almost through.”

She was belted into
the robe, a towel wrapped around her wet head, and was reaching for the door
when it opened, startling her. In her addled state, she’d apparently forgotten
to lock it. Damn!

“I hope there isn’t a
spyhole you were watching through,” she spat at McCall. “I’d hate to have you
arrested as a Peeping Tom.”

As usual, he ignored
her and held out a small bottle. “Aspirin. Take two right now.”

Before she could back
away from him, he was in her space, his hands on her face as he examined the
damage to her nose and head. The gentleness of his touch was in marked contrast
to his attitude and made her wonder what emotions might be at war within him,
too. She desperately needed an ally here, but how could she trust a man who
closed himself off yet gave mixed signals? And how did she deal with the fact
that just the touch of his fingers sent electric shocks through her body,
making her breasts ache and her pussy quiver with need?

“Well, nothing’s
broken,” he said, confirming her own diagnosis. “But your nose won’t be looking
any too swift for a while. And you’ll probably have a hell of a bruise on the
side of your face.”

“Thanks, Dr. McCall.
I can take care of it from here.”

“Sully has coffee
waiting. Five minutes.”

He was gone, leaving
her staring open-mouthed after him.

As she dried her hair
with the hotel blow dryer, she tried to figure out what she was going to say to
Sullivan Raines, head of John’s special unit. Anything but the truth, that was
for sure. John had been betrayed. Trust no one, he’d told her. She had to
believe he knew what he was talking about.

She touched the
locket nestled at the hollow of her throat.

Don’t worry, John. I’ll
do whatever I need to. Just stay safe.

****

Twenty-four hours
earlier

“Help me, Dusty.
Someone’s betrayed me.”

The use of her childhood
nickname threw Rina off balance. Her breath caught in her chest, and every
muscle in her body froze from the shock of hearing her brother’s voice after
three years of silence.

Pressing the cordless
phone against her ear, she strained to hear over the popping sound of the poor
connection. “John? I can hardly understand you. Is it safe for you to call me?”

“No choice.” His
voice sounded hollow, as if he were in a deep hole. “I’ve...something that
scares the hell out of me. People...see me disappear.”

“What? John, what are
you talking about? You’re frightening me.”

“Just listen, okay?
Remember the key...townhouse I sent you...time ago?”

Even through the distortion
she could hear his labored breathing—ragged, as if he’d been running too hard. “Rina?”

“Yes. I’m here. A key
for emergencies.”

“Right.” He coughed,
a harsh, dry sound. “You still have...directions?”

“Yes.” Fear pressed
in on her chest like an elephant had stepped on it.

“Go to the airport.
Ticket...car waiting.” He struggled to get out the details of the flight and
the rental car.

Beyond the ragged
breathing, Rina heard a barely-concealed groan of pain. Terrifying images of
him, bloodied and dying, slammed into her brain. She nearly dropped the phone. “You’re
hurt!”

“Can’t worry...now.”
Each word sounded as if it was being dragged from him by force. His voice grew
weaker as the connection faded in and out.

“Don’t let me lose
you, John. Please let me help you.”

“Help by doing this,
Dusty.”

There it was again.
The nickname. It was almost her undoing.

“Oh, John.” Tears
clogged her throat.

“I don’t think...gonna
make it this time, kiddo. Someone gave me up...hunt...find out who.” The
bone-jarring cough rattled across the wires again. “If luck’s with me...later
on your cell. If you don’t...dead.”

Rina turned cold. A
sick feeling grew in the pit of her stomach. “No! Don’t say that. Please.”

“...chip. Got it?...chip...out
of time. Go to my place...right now.”

A burst of static
crackled in her ear like the amplified crinkling of tissue paper. “John? Talk
to me. John!”

“You gotta do this,
Dusty. Please.”

Did anyone on his
team know where he was? Had he been able to call his boss? She forced herself
to concentrate. “Okay. What should I do when I get there?”

“Get Mom’s locket...souvenir.”

Rina frowned and bit
her lip. He always carried that locket as a good luck talisman. Why didn’t he
have it now?

“I couldn’t...let...find
it. Get it...get out of there...don’t let...out of...sight. Careful...watching.”

Rina closed her eyes
and willed herself to be calm. Three years since she’d laid eyes on him, and
now she was terrified she’d never see him again.

“All right. Yes. I’ll
get it.” Her hand gripped the phone so tightly the muscles cramped.

“...safe...do it.”

“Safe? From what?
From who? What should I do with it?” She swallowed hard. “John, let me call
someone, get you some help.”

“No.” The vehemence
in his tone made her eyes widen, and her breath hitch. “Can’t call...betrayed...betrayed.”

He stopped again,
this time for so long she was sure he was gone for good.

Then his voice came
through once more. “You’ll know...right person...give it to...promise. Dusty?
Trust...no one.” He coughed again, a harsh, rasping sound. “Got that? Trust no
one...love you, kiddo.”

“John? John, don’t
hang up.”

Silence greeted her.
She looked at the dead phone in her hand. John was gone.

His counter-terrorism
work was so secret, the men he hunted so dangerous, he could only protect her
by keeping her out of his life. Only a major crisis could make him break the
rules and contact her like this. Rina had to force back the panic that swept in
full blown with his call.

Okay. She’d get the
locket and keep it safe. She wiped her sweaty palms on her slacks and looked at
her watch. She’d better get moving if she meant to catch that plane. God, why
was this happening?

John’s last words
were so garbled she wasn’t too sure what she was supposed to do with the locket
when she had it or who she was supposed to give it to. But three words burned
into her brain loud and clear.

Trust no one.

That was something she
would remember.

****

Rina rubbed the
locket as if to draw strength from it. She squeezed it between thumb and
forefinger and suddenly it popped open, startling her.

Nervously she
unclasped it from around her neck and held it in her palm. Her hand shook as
she stared at the piece of jewelry. She’d done enough research for her romantic
suspense novels to know what was nestled inside. A microchip. Oh god. Whatever
was on the chip contained the very information John had given his life to
protect. It was up to her now not to give it to the wrong person.