The Risqué Target (22 page)

He went into the kitchen. Nala put a glass in the sink and turned to him, her soft, flowing blonde hair and her small, perky breasts pressing the cloth of her shirt, pleading to be noticed. At the sight of her, fire raced through his blood.

“I called in the serial numbers on the locked box,” he told her. “They verified it’s the one stolen from HAARP. I'm meeting an agent tomorrow to deliver it. When I get back, we'll figure out our next step. We can't stay here much longer. It’s not safe. Ordinary NESA access can’t pull up this address, but I don’t know who I can trust anymore.” He stopped a few feet away from her, not trusting himself, either. Not to go any closer to her. “We need to find out who hired Brent Walden.”

“So you think there's more to this then just HAARP and the tsunami?” She rested her hand on the island countertop. “So do I.”

“That wouldn’t explain them bugging your apartment, or coming after you in that van. And why the hell were we kidnapped, but not killed right away? We weren't working the bombing case together. They set us on it, and on each other. It’s like they hoped one of us would take out the other, but it didn’t matter which. There’s only one explanation. For some reason, someone in NESA is after both of us.”

Nala crossed her arms, looking him straight in the eyes. “Then, what about Gabe Cafferty?”

“Gabe Cafferty?” he asked, puzzled at her change of subject.

“Yes. Gabe Cafferty,” she repeated as if he should know the name. “My partner during the bombing investigation.”

Tantum was curious about her partner, but couldn't figure out why she sounded so accusing. “And?”

“Did you kill him?”

“What?”

“You heard me. Did you?”

Like a punch in the gut, the past few days started to add up. “Is that what NESA told you? Is that why you came looking for me?” Now it made sense, why she'd put a knife to his throat in that elevator, why she’d pushed him from the moving vehicle. And why she called him a cold-blooded killer.

She thought he’d killed her partner

No wonder she refused to trust him.

Would she believe him now? “Fuck, Nala… no!” He shoved his fingers through his hair. He wanted to hold her, consol her, convince her, but getting too close to her was dangerous, too damn tempting. “Sweetheart, I'm sorry you lost your partner, but I didn’t know him, and I certainly didn’t kill him.” Unable to read her blank face he waited. He had to believe she would come to terms with the truth. She'd see through this conspiracy and believe him.

She gave him a weak smile, and Tantum relaxed a little, seeing her blankness was stunned shock. She had accepted his word. But his relaxation was abruptly cut short when her eyes softened and she stepped toward him. “About earlier today, Tantum—”

“I told you I don’t want to talk about it. We did what was needed to complete the job, we were just playing our parts. Let it go.”

“I can't,” she said, taking another step closer. “Why did you put me in that situation?”

His defenses kicked in. “Hey, we were both there, sweetheart. You weren't the only one who had to suffer through it.” He heard his voice come out harsher than he'd intended. The only torture he’d truly suffered was not being able to touch her after she'd indulged herself and felt every growing inch of him.

“I'm sorry, Tantum,” she whispered, inching nearer, boiling his blood. “After what you went through with those drug cartel hoodlums, I wouldn’t have chosen to put you through that.”

The compassion filling her voice pricked him, bringing him back to that single submissive moment when he'd lost himself, proclaiming him hers.

“If I'd had a choice, it would have been me blindfolded and chained,” she said, taking another threatening step.

His hand came out, pressing against her chest to halt her. “That would've put you in a dangerous situation.”

She frowned down at his restraining hand. “What do you mean?”

He dropped the hand. “What's the problem? You thrive on control. I gave it to you on a silver platter, with me as the main damn course. It should've turned you on, having a man weak and on his knees.” Whatever she pretended, he knew that was what she really wanted. He couldn’t be that man. He cared for her. Damn it, he was on the edge, ready to dive off that forty-foot building, but he just couldn’t. Not even for her. Control was survival, and he couldn’t allow anyone to take that from him.

Her body stiffened. He’d hit a nerve. The compassion was gone.  She seethed.

“Screw you.”

He couldn’t stop himself. “There she is, my wild little kitty cat. You enjoyed it, didn’t you? I bet you were drenched between the legs just thinking about the power you had, that crop in your hand and what you could do to me with it.” Antagonized by the mere memory, he glared at her, caught between loathing and desire. “I saw it in your eyes, the passion, the hunger. There's no denying it, baby. You were fucking hot and bothered over that shit.” And it was at that moment he'd given in, accepted the fact that with her, one casual night would never be enough.

“No,” her voice trembled.

Fury seeped through him and collided with his need for her. Confused, angry, and unable to control his emotions, his feelings, he spat, “The only time I'll succumb to you again, Nala, kneel before you, will be while I'm on my knees straddling you, pumping myself inside you, fucking that sweet, wet pussy until you scream my name.”

“What?” she exclaimed, outraged. “You couldn’t even stand to look at me. You made me put my robe on!”

“You wanted me to lose it on the job? Because that's what would have happened if it were me wielding the crop and you chained.” He smiled bitterly. “I don’t have your control, sweetheart.”

“Tantum….” Her feet padded along the hardwood floor until she was a foot away. “Are you saying you still want me?” she asked, capturing his eyes to hers.

“Don’t look at me like that, Nala.”

“Like what?” She blinked.

“Starved.” Grasping her arms, he leaned perilously close to her mouth, to her enticing lips. “You don't see it, do you? Yes, I want you. But no matter how much I want you, I can’t— won’t—be with a woman who wants to fucking tame me.” He tightened his hold, trying to squeeze the craving out of her. “I can offer you a great lay. That’s all. Is that what you want?” he ground out between his tight lips. He pulled her body against his, crushing her to him, longing to be on top of her, imbedded deep inside her.

Her eyes narrowed as she mocked, “Oh, how lucky I am! A great lay from the notorious Marcus Richards, the Dark Angel?”

“Don’t knock it. I can make you scream out in pleasure.” He growled at the pictures that came into his mind. That was his talent. It’s what he was. A playboy. A heartless ladies’ man.

“No, I don't want that.” Her hand came to his chest. “You don’t understand,” she said, pushing him away.

“Oh,” he snarled, releasing her arms. His innards broke into pieces. “I understand perfectly.” So, he was right. If she couldn’t have him weak and on his knees, she didn’t want him at all. “I'm going to bed. You can take one of the spare rooms tonight.” He left her standing in the kitchen, dumbfounded.

Standing in his long t-shirt, his aroma clinging to her, she looked down the hallway. The endless passage leading to Tantum was dark and forbidding, still and silent. Her feet were bare and stuck frozen to the floor. She was eager to go to him, to explain the passion he’d seen in her eyes. It was not for his submission, but because she realized she was falling in love with him. But that confession came with consequences, ones she wasn’t sure she was prepared to face up to.

She found herself in front of his bedroom door, not remembering the long walk to get there. She licked her lips and smoothed them together. She wasn’t sure if it was to calm herself, or to get ready.

She was fearful of the man on the other side of the door, of what he could do to her heart and how he could change her life. She still didn’t have all the answers. Tantum said he hadn’t killed Gabe, and she believed him. After all, Gabe had been dying. He could have been incoherent, disoriented, when she asked who had killed him. Maybe he didn’t hear her question. What if he was saying “Tantum Maddox” because Gabe knew about his connection to the case? He could have been trying to tell her to find Tantum, who could help her.

She needed to trust Tantum. He said he didn’t kill Gabe and she was inclined to take him on his word. She shook her head. None of it mattered. At that very moment, her sanity went missing. Her need to be with Tantum reached out and snagged her reason, her logical sense of judgment, and ditched it somewhere along the way.

And there was the doorknob, the portal to her stay of execution. Yielding her good sense, if for one night, to be with the only man who'd been able to detain her sensibility and imprison her heart. She'd be leaving soon, walking away from him, and she knew this would have to be now or never.

The door opened. A lump of fervor caught in her throat, almost choking her. Tantum was exiting the bathroom. His large, imposing form filled the doorframe, his body outlined by the light behind him, the only light in the room. He was mesmeric, dark, and provocative.

He halted at the high bedpost, leaned against it, and hitched his thumb into the waist of his drawstring pants. The moonlight, as if made for him, glistened up his stunning but inflexible face. It stroked his naked chest, casting shadows along the ripples of his remarkable muscles. “What are you doing in here?” snarled the godlike creature.

Taken aback, she pushed her feet to move into the room. “I-I think we need to talk.”

Inert, cool and calm, he rested against the post, an arm's length from her. “I've said all I wanted to, Nala. Please leave me alone.” Animosity clanged in his harsh tone.

Die or surrender?
She wasn't ready to die. “No. I'm not going anywhere until you hear me out.”

“It doesn’t matter what you have to say. This you-and-me business can never be. I've been an agent a lot longer than you. I’m damaged. I've told you what I have to offer. That’s all I’ve got.” He arched a brow. “So unless you're here for that, you'd better turn your ass right around and get the hell out of here.”

Her hands clenched at her sides. “I don’t want Marcus Richards!”

Advancing quickly on her, steering her body back against the wall, he slammed his hands against the plaster. The muscles in his face constricted, as if he was trying to contain himself, or contain
something
, though she wasn’t sure which. She was pinned between two unmovable objects. “Then you don’t want me, sweetheart. Because that's been me for the past ten years.” The aqua of his eyes deepened, dark and sinful.

“I want Tantum Maddox,” she admitted and held her breath. With every scrap of her body, she wanted him.

His jaw muscles contracted. “No you don’t,” he said. “He's cold. Shit, he's practically gone. Dead.”

“Well, I'll take whatever part of him is still in there,” she declared, refusing to back down.

With trained eyes, she sensed him stalking her, trapping her. “Is that right? Perhaps first you should find out what
he
wants.”

“Why don’t you tell me?” she pressed, needing to know.

“Your control. I want to take it.” He paused, and his gaze lingered on her mouth. His hand moved up. His strong thumb caressed her lip.

In response, her tongue slipped out and licked it. Her hungry mouth encased it, and she gave it a nice thorough suck, taking his thumb into the warmth of her mouth.

Withdrawing his thumb, he feathered the wetness over her lips before he rested it back against the wall. As he lowered his head, she heard him heave a sigh.

She flushed for her gutsy action, taking his thumb into her mouth as if it were the powerful, thick flesh between his legs, but his mouth captured hers in a hard, swift, demanding kiss.

Then, as suddenly as he'd taken her mouth to his, he abruptly pulled away.

With her lips still tingling from his touch, she caught her breath in her throat.

“I want to take your control.” His voice was scathing. “I want to take it over and over again.”

Is he trying to scare me? Well, it isn’t going to work.
“You can certainly try. I'm up for it.” Her challenge was to him, and to herself.

He pushed back from her. His hand landed on the doorknob.
Is he going to walk out on me? Leave me in this agony?

The door slammed shut, but he hadn’t left. He'd locked her into the room with him. He didn’t come back to her, though. With the wall bracing her, holding her up, she watched him walk to the bed, casually lean back into the footboard, and cross his arms over his broad chest. “If you insist on staying, take off that shirt and let me look at you.” His expression was bleak, his voice flat and jaded.