Stop at Nothing (13 page)

Abby moaned, that familiar ache of need at her core pulsing with her desire to feel him inside her again. But the warmth of his tongue, the gentle scrape of his teeth, the coarseness of his stubble on her skin were pleasurable distractions.

As he left her breasts to press kisses along her collarbone to her throat, he carefully walked her backward toward her bed. The hard length of his erection thrust between her thighs, making her shudder with anticipation of the joining that would soon have her screaming his name.

When she bumped against her mattress and they could go no farther, he captured her face with his hands and took her mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue plunging rhythmically, tangling with hers. Abby let her head fall back, surrendering completely, content to go on kissing him like this forever in spite of the ache of need that had turned from a low, smoldering flame to raging heat.

As if understanding her desperate need, he suddenly broke their kiss and gave her a gentle shove. She cried out in surprise as she fell back onto the mattress, then giggled at the playful, sexy smile that curved his sensual mouth. But his smile faded, replaced by that heated gaze she knew was the precursor to mind-blowing rapture.

When he wedged himself between her legs and grasped her hips, roughly pulling her to the edge of the mattress and thrusting into her without warning, she sent up a wordless mewl of pleasure. And when he began to move his hips in long, measured thrusts, Abby arched off the bed with a moan, clutching the coverlet in her fists.

“God, yes,” she gasped, her breath ragged as another release sped upon her. “Yes!”

Kyle groaned in response and when she met his gaze, she could see him straining to hold on, waiting to ensure that she'd found her release. His jaw was clenched so tight that the muscle near his ear twitched.

As her muscles began to contract around him, he suddenly withdrew and dropped to his knees, burying his face between her thighs and using his tongue to bring her over the edge. She cried out as her body shuddered, writhing against his mouth, and still he drove her on.

When she could no longer stand the intensity of the pleasure, she gasped his name, gently pulling his head up. He obeyed and instantly turned to her bedside table, jerking open the drawer and heaving a relieved sigh as he snatched up the box of condoms she kept there. Seconds later, he was sliding one over his shaft and then slipping into her again.

Abby rose up on her elbows and scooted back farther on the mattress. Never breaking his stride, he followed, easing his body down on hers, supporting himself on his elbows as his tempo increased.

His head dropped into the curve of her neck, his breath hot on her skin, making her shiver as goose bumps prickled her flesh. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, clutching him close as his body tensed. The groan that rose up from deep within his chest made her shiver, and her body pulsed with his, a smaller aftershock of her earlier release.

When he collapsed, spent, she cradled him tenderly, smoothing his back and shoulders, pressing kisses to his hair, letting the love they shared at that moment seep into the marrow of her bones, filling her with the kind of joy she had only found in his arms and praying that when she finally found the courage to explain to him why she'd pushed him away three years ago, he would be able to forgive her. God knows she had yet to forgive herself.

It was just after three in the morning when Fielding spotted the guy creeping along the privacy fence that enclosed Abby Morrow's backyard. The man's dark clothes helping him blend into the shadows and become almost invisible, especially with the rain coming down in sheets, the howling wind blowing it sideways and obscuring his view. If not for Fielding's trained eye and years of experience
being
the man dressed in black and creeping along fence lines, he doubted he would've spotted him.

It was a shitty night to be on a job. The guy had to be pissed and cursing his decision to take the hit on Abby Morrow right about now. Fielding almost hated to take the fucker out. The guy's day was about to go from bad to worse.

There were lines that shouldn't be crossed. Planning to kill someone when you'd already gotten what you needed out of them was a bullshit waste of resources and created unnecessary risks. And if you
did
have to tie up loose ends, you should at least show a little creativity and forethought, for fuck's sake.

Yeah, well, this lame assassin would be in for a surprise if that pretty little deputy's boyfriend got wind of the intrusion before the hit could go off. The guy moved like he knew what he was doing. Odds were good that the jackass moving toward the front door didn't even know Abby wasn't alone.

There'd been no recon, no surveillance. And clearly the guy had no imagination, no finesse.

Fielding shook his head.

He'd almost be doing this loser a favor by doing him in before he got caught and had to suffer the indignity of having all his mistakes on a job laid bare in a very public trial. Even if the guy got off by some miracle, he'd never work again.

Fielding heaved a long-suffering sigh and pushed open the door of his SUV almost silently—not that the guy could've heard it anyway over the window-rattling rumble of thunder.

He hunched over and flipped up his collar to keep the rain from going down the back of his jacket. His gaze darted up and down the wooded street, checking for approaching headlights, then to the nearest houses, which were all dark, their occupants no doubt fast asleep. Gotta love a sleepy small town. Made his job a hell of a lot easier.

The hired gun was just pulling open the screen door to go to work on the deadbolt of the heavy wooden door when Fielding raced silently up the front steps. Without pause, he wrapped his arm around the guy's head and twisted in one swift motion.

The guy sagged in his arms. He hadn't even realized Fielding was there.

Pathetic.

Fielding glanced around again. Satisfied that no one had seen any of what had just gone down, he hefted the man up over his shoulder. He strode swiftly to his waiting vehicle and opened the rear door, then cast one more glance up and down the street before pitching the guy inside.

As he slid in behind the wheel and started up the SUV he grinned, enjoying the game Mr. Smith didn't even know he was playing. Fielding had eliminated the threat for now. When his employer realized his hit man had failed, he'd send someone else. But Fielding had done his good deed, had evened the odds a little. And for tonight, Deputy Morrow and her boyfriend could rest easy.

Or not.

If the little show they'd put on earlier was any indication, they were probably still screwing each other's brains out.
Damn.
He'd pulled up to the neighbor's house just a few minutes before they'd arrived home. Talk about perfect timing.

He'd slid down in his seat when he saw the headlights approaching and had a front-row seat for the heated make-out session there in the driveway. For a minute there he thought they might actually go at it right there against the car. But to his disappointment, they'd headed inside.

As he pulled away, Fielding chuckled, wondering if he should send a thank-you note to the deputy for providing a little entertainment while he waited for her would-be assassin to show. And maybe suggest she invest in some curtains for the windows on either side of her front door…

* * *

The next morning, Abby stood naked in front of the mirror in her bathroom, dragging a comb through her hair that was still damp from the long, sultry shower she and Kyle had shared a few minutes earlier. They'd had good intentions, planning on just kissing and caressing, but that had soon led to one seriously hot make-out session. Although they'd both experienced their release in the shower, she ached to feel Kyle inside her again, to join their bodies in that blissful tangle of arms and legs and tongues.

She'd never been able to get enough of him. And now that he'd confessed he'd never stopped loving her, her guilt over pushing him away before was so crushing that she only found reprieve from it when he was in her arms, cradled by her body. And she was offering him all of her—heart, body, and soul.

As if sensing her need, Kyle came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to the side of her throat. She tilted her head to the side to grant him greater access to her neck. And when his hand came up to cup her breast, she closed her eyes and leaned into him with a contented sigh.

“My God, I could make love to you all day long and never get enough of you,” he murmured near her ear. As if to prove his point, his other hand drifted down between her legs to caress the folds that were already swollen and aching again for his touch.

Grinning, she moved her hips, pressing her backside against his groin. “The feeling's mutual.”

He groaned and shifted to press his growing erection between her legs, thrusting his hips, teasing her with the gentle friction. “Should we go back to your bed?”

She let her head drop back against his chest, loving the way he could be so fiercely passionate a lover one moment and so tender and gentle the next. “We have to leave soon,” she said, not surprised that her voice was breathless when his fingers were driving her mad. “We stayed in bed too long.”

His deep chuckle vibrated against her back. “No such thing.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then nipped at it gently with his teeth. “Let Hamilton wait. You're much sexier company.”

She knew she should've insisted, but it was impossible to think clearly when he was stroking her so expertly. “Oh God,” she gasped as she felt another orgasm building. She moaned, pressing back against him, wanting more of him,
needing
more of him,
all
of him.

Apparently, that was all the encouragement Kyle needed.

* * *

With his free hand, Kyle opened the vanity drawer, blindly feeling around for the condom he'd brought with him to the bathroom that morning, just in case. He'd always been safe with his lovers. Always. But with Abby it was hard as hell to stick to his own rules. After that reckless night on the boat their first time together, he'd vowed to be less of a sex-crazed dolt. And yet there'd been at least one other time that they'd thrown caution to the wind that summer.

And now he'd almost done it again the night before. Thank God she'd brought him to his senses before he'd come inside her and potentially put her at risk of an unwanted pregnancy. It wasn't like with Joe and Sadie who'd been in love with each other most of their lives and had been together for a year now and were looking forward to spending the rest of their lives together. His future with Abby was just beginning to take form and was in no way certain.

He damned near shouted in triumph when he found the condom and slammed the drawer shut. A moment later he was tearing open the package with his teeth and slipping it on.

He pressed Abby forward until she was bent over the vanity, braced on her elbows, then nudged her legs apart and thrust into her from behind as he continued to caress her clit.

Christ, she is beautiful.

Watching in the mirror as passion played across Abby's face had Kyle clamping down on his back teeth to keep his shit together. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted as she panted, her hair hanging over her shoulder, her breasts swaying with each thrust.

She was the sexiest woman he'd ever seen, had taken his breath away the first time he saw her. She'd walked into the academy that day, looking nervous as hell but somehow fearless at the same time. It was that combination of courage and vulnerability that did him in.

And the fact that she'd opened herself to him in every way was the greatest gift he could ask for. Even now, she gave herself over to their lovemaking, accepting him so willingly and without reservation, making his chest go tight with emotion.

As her muscles began to contract and her body raced toward release, he clenched his jaw tighter, forcing himself not to give in. But then she was shattering apart, and he followed right along with her with a shout, pitching forward and bracing himself against the edge of the vanity counter.

As his rhythm began to slow, he cursed inwardly at his selfishness. He'd wanted to last longer, give her the pleasure she deserved instead of a quickie in the bathroom, for chrissake.

With one arm braced on the counter, the other wrapped around her waist, supporting her, his body curled over hers as they waited to catch their breath, he kissed her shoulder again. Slowly he withdrew, a groan escaping him before he could check it. But then she turned around to face him, sliding her hands up his chest. He drew her back into her arms and brushed his lips to hers in a brief kiss. “Should I have stopped?”

She gave him a wicked grin. “Oh no. I think if you had stopped I would've been forced to employ extreme measures.”

“Is that so?” He was grinning when he kissed her again. “And what kind of extreme measures did you have in mind?”

She giggled and slipped from his arms, throwing an arch look over her shoulder as she headed for the door. “Well, I guess you'll just have to wait until tonight to find out.”

Kyle watched her sashay out of the bathroom and muttered a reverent curse, wondering just how long he'd have to wait to find out what was going through that gorgeous mind of hers.

Abby was grateful that Kyle's fingers were twined with hers as they entered the Sheriff's Department to face Hamilton. Her knees were shaky, her entire body trembling with barely restrained anger at what that son of a bitch had put her sister through. He was damned lucky they were meeting in a public place—which is probably why he'd volunteered that instead of a private meeting.

Hamilton was no idiot; that was clear. She'd have to be on her guard. And he'd have to work damned hard to prove his innocence because she wasn't buying it for a second.

“Hey, you got a visitor, Abby,” one of the deputies at the front desk informed her as soon as she entered the building. “He's in room five.”

Kyle gave Abby's hand a reassuring squeeze, apparently sensing her nerves. “Have you ever done this before?” he asked her softly as they made their way toward the meeting room.

She shook her head. “Not like this. The only time I've ever questioned anyone was in dealing with victims or witnesses—never a suspect.”

“Well, we aren't sure which he is yet,” Kyle reminded her. “Just stay calm and let him talk. If he's guilty, the more he talks the better. More of a chance he'll trip himself up with his own lies.”

She nodded, her heart pounding as the little plastic sign that jutted out from the wall beside the door marking the room “In Use” came into view. “Thanks,” she said, pulling him to a halt just outside the door. “For everything. Really. I appreciate you being here with me.”

He smoothed the back of her hand with his thumb and smiled, the gaze he gave her heating her blood and giving her courage. “Always. Remember that.”

Although the knowledge of his unwavering support meant the world to her, his devotion pricked her conscience, and she wondered just how supportive he'd be when he found out about the secret she'd been keeping from him. Would he look at her so lovingly when he knew the truth?

Abby shoved her own concerns aside and took a deep breath, exhaling sharply and steeling herself. She opened the meeting room door and strode inside, her head held high, her expression intentionally hard, not bothering to hide her suspicion.

But the moment her gaze met that of Patrick Hamilton, she had a hard time keeping her mouth from dropping open to gape at him. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but certainly not the devastatingly handsome, debonair man still this side of sixty who had either hit the gene pool jackpot or paid a lot of money to retain the appearance of youthfulness. Sitting there in the meeting room, which was more like a conference room than one of the dingy, gray concrete rooms so often depicted on television cop shows, Hamilton looked more like George Clooney than a nefarious criminal.

But Abby knew better than anyone that looks could be deceiving.

Hamilton stood when they entered and buttoned the jacket of his impeccably tailored suit as he said, “Deputy Morrow. A pleasure to finally meet you in person.” He then turned his steel gray gaze toward Kyle and extended a hand. “Patrick Hamilton.”

Kyle eyed him warily but shook his hand. “Agent Kyle Dawson, FBI.”

Hamilton's brows lifted. “FBI?” He then turned his attention back to Abby and gestured to her to sit at the conference table as if he'd called
her
there to chat. “Won't you sit down? I'm eager to hear what you've found and why you are so suspicious of my involvement that you felt it necessary to call in the FBI.”

For a split second, Abby thought about refusing his offer to sit and remaining standing to make it clear that
she
was the one in control of the situation, not Hamilton. But she had a feeling that no matter how she played things, the man wasn't used to deferring to anyone and knew how to maintain control even when giving the illusion otherwise.

So she walked around to the other side of the conference table and took a seat across from him, creating a barrier between them so that he didn't for one second think that they were on the same side—literally or figuratively.

“Thank you for coming down this morning, Mr. Hamilton,” Kyle said, sliding back the chair next to Abby's in just the right way to make the wooden legs screech as they scraped the floor.

Hamilton flinched almost imperceptibly. “I'd say it was my pleasure, Agent Dawson, but I am concerned about what precipitated Deputy Morrow's accusations
.
”

Abby wanted to lunge across the table and grab Hamilton by the lapels of his designer suit and give him a good shake. Instead, she leaned back in her chair and met his even gaze as she'd witnessed Mac Dawson do on numerous occasions. “It seems that one of your employees was indeed involved in unethical activities, Mr. Hamilton. In fact, they were not just unethical but
illegal
.”

Hamilton didn't bat an eye. “So it was as I suspected. Insider trading.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Affairs, stealing supplies, and using company Internet to browse porn—definitely. But I didn't find any evidence of insider trading.”

Hamilton's eyes narrowed slightly. “If not that, then what?”

“What do you know about your godson's involvement with a private security firm called Tartarus Security Services International?”

He shook his head. “Nothing at all.”

Abby had to work to keep the angry tremor out of her voice when she hissed, “Well, the man you sent to kidnap my sister and then break into her house to assault me to get the data certainly knew all about it.”

“As I said before, Deputy,” Hamilton drawled, his demeanor completely unfazed, “I have no idea what you're talking about. I didn't hire anyone to kidnap your sister or assault you. What exactly did you find that this man wanted so badly?”

She glanced at Kyle, silently asking if he thought she should share her findings. When he gave her an almost imperceptible nod, she explained, “Your godson is involved in a rather extensive money-laundering operation, Mr. Hamilton.”

For the first time, Hamilton actually looked taken aback. “Pardon me?”

“That's the least of your concerns,” Kyle told him.

Hamilton shook his head, his confusion evident in his eyes. “There must be some mistake. Preston is his father's right hand. Mine as well. I have no children of my own, no nieces or nephews. Everything will be left to Preston when I pass. He'll be one of the wealthiest men in the country. Why would he want to jeopardize that by dealing with criminals?”

Abby eyed Hamilton for a long moment. Either he was truly baffled or he was an incredible actor. “Maybe he didn't want to wait that long,” she suggested.

Hamilton looked away, suddenly very interested in a scratch on the cherrywood conference table. After mulling over her words for a moment, he shook his head. “No, he wouldn't have any need of money. He's already inherited millions from his grandparents and has a ridiculous salary that his father insisted upon.”

Abby leaned forward and put her forearms on the table, clasping her hands together and taking an entirely different attitude. “Mr. Hamilton, maybe it wasn't about the money at first. And maybe he didn't intend to get into things this deep. I'll grant you that. Perhaps he planned to do just one job as a favor to the wrong person, but then he found it all too alluring. Maybe having powerful people in his pocket who owed him a favor was just too intoxicating. But I'm guessing if you looked into his finances you'd see he's greatly overspending even his ridiculous salary. You must know the lavish parties he throws, the kinds of friends he has, the celebrities and the old-moneyed elite who live hard and fast and who all tend to have particular…
habits
.”

Hamilton looked shocked at her insinuation. But she wasn't saying anything that wasn't common knowledge. All Hamilton had to do was glance at the tabloids and he'd know the kind of company his godson kept—drugged-out starlets and washed-up pop stars who only continued to get invited to the best parties because of the crazy cash they were willing to throw around and the spectacular “party favors” they had access to because of their stardom—whether past or present.

She was being kind in letting Hamilton think his godson's dirty dealings were just for the money. But the fact was, Preston Whitmore had a habit of bragging to some of his cronies about who he'd slept with and the amount of cocaine they'd blown through—literally—at one of his parties in Chicago. And for a man who clearly lacked scruples, it was hardly surprising that he had no qualms about sleeping with a woman who was completely stoned out of her mind. Class act all the way around.

Hamilton took a deep breath and exhaled on a sigh, his silver brows drawing together in a frown. “I was something of a wunderkind in the industry when I met my business partner. Even then, Preston was a headstrong teenager, had a talent for falling in with the wrong people. But even though I'm only twenty years Preston's senior, his father hoped that if he made me Preston's godfather, I'd be a positive influence.” He met Abby's gaze. “But you're telling me very clearly that I have failed not just Preston but his father as well.”

Abby felt a momentary stab of pity for the man across from her. “You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. Some people just…” Abby let her words trail off, her pity turning to irritation that she suddenly felt
sorry
for Hamilton when she still wasn't convinced of his innocence.

“Some people just…?” Hamilton prompted.

Abby regarded him with a harsh look. “Some people just believe they are above reproach, Mr. Hamilton. They think they can do what they want to whom they want and they will be exempt from the consequences.”

Hamilton lifted a single brow. “You think I plan to ask you not to prosecute my godson?”

“Do you?” Kyle interjected. “It wouldn't be the first time someone like you tried to buy your way out of trouble.”

“Someone like me?” Hamilton echoed with a grin. “No offense, Agent Dawson, but you don't know a damned thing about me.”

Kyle spread his hands. “Fair enough. But Abby does. And she doesn't trust you. How do we know you weren't involved in this money laundering or other activities as well?”

Hamilton's gaze flicked toward Abby. “What other activities? There's more?”

“Let's get back to what you know about Tartarus,” Abby said.

“I've already told you that I'm not familiar with that company,” he replied, his calm slipping slightly.

“Tartarus is a private security firm with operations all over the world,” Abby explained. “While investigating, I discovered that Whitmore was doing business with Curtis Maxwell, the owner of the security firm.” When Hamilton failed to react to her brother-in-law's name or Whitmore's association with him, Abby continued, “They're using Tartarus as a front for an extensive—and extremely lucrative—human-trafficking operation.”

Hamilton went visibly pale but then red began to creep up his neck and into his face, reminding Abby of the cartoons she watched as a girl when the character eats peppers that are too hot and steam starts shooting out his ears before the top of his head blows off.

“Why did you keep this from me until now?” Hamilton asked.

“I wasn't sure of your innocence,” Abby admitted without hesitation.

“And now?”

She shook her head. “Still not.”

“And yet you've told me all of this,” he pointed out. “You've shown your hand.”

“To watch your reaction to everything,” Abby told him. “To see if you'd slip up on anything.”

Hamilton's eyes narrowed. “You were fishing for more information. What else do you need to know?”

“Where my brother-in-law is.” Abby pulled out her phone and found the picture of Curtis that she'd received and slid it across the table.

Hamilton caught it without taking his gaze off her. He blinked twice, then looked down at the phone. He twitched slightly when he saw the graphic image. “Who is this?”

“I think it might be my brother-in-law,” Abby told him. “Curtis Maxwell.”

Hamilton's brows shot up. “The man who owns Tartarus? The man with whom Preston is in league?”

Abby gave him a slight nod. “He's missing.”

“Have you been in New Orleans recently, Mr. Hamilton?” Kyle asked.

Hamilton frowned at him. “No. Why?”

“We were able to trace the number back to New Orleans,” Kyle explained.

“Could it have been a forwarded photo?” Hamilton questioned.

Abby shook her head. “The phone company records show no incoming media on the phone. Only outgoing.”

Hamilton's scowl grew. “You're certain of all of this?” Hamilton ground out between clenched teeth.

Abby nodded. “Yes.”

“There's no chance you could've misinterpreted any of your findings?” he replied. “And you have proof?”

Abby worked to keep her expression from giving her away. “We're in the process of getting a subpoena for the data you provided me during my freelance investigation. I would suggest you cooperate—for your sake and Preston's.”

“That will not be possible,” Hamilton interrupted, waving away Kyle's words.

Abby's chest tightened. “I beg your pardon?”

Hamilton rose to his feet, apparently signaling the end of the interview. “I assure you, Deputy Morrow, I do not condone my godson's activities any more than you do your brother-in-law's. But as much as I would like to help you, I'm afraid there are certain things that should be handled privately.”

Abby's stomach sank. “What do you mean?”

“I can't imagine that you or your sister would like to be dragged through a very public trial any more than my company would,” he explained. “You understand.”

“You understand you're interfering with an investigation?” Kyle shot back.