Twisted Mercy (Red Team Book 4) (37 page)

Val planted a hand on his chest and got in his face. “Later. Get your woman first.”

Max was on his way out of the house a few minutes later when Ivy blocked his access to the garage. He did not want a boatload of crap from her, but he had it coming. He’d just beat up her husband…on her wedding day.

“Ivy—”

She held up her hands. “I don’t know what happened. I’m sure you’ll work it out with Kit later. I just wanted you to know there are two empty apartments above my diner that are already fully loaded with the team’s security system. Hope’s welcome to stay in one of them if she can’t come here.”

Max blew out a long breath of air he’d been holding. “Thank you.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it. Everything’s fine here. Go get Hope.” She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
 

* * *

Hope worriedly checked the headlights in her rearview mirror. She couldn’t see anything behind the lights, but based on the height and spread of them, a truck or SUV was following her. The vehicle didn’t crowd her or try to drive her off the road, but it stayed with her almost from Ty’s house. A few miles outside the WKB compound, a low-riding vehicle with a single headlight illegally passed over the double yellow line and cut in front of the SUV. When she looked again, the SUV was gone. There was only one person that biker could be.

Max
.

She turned into the compound. Only one guard was at the entry. He waved to them. Max went off road, riding across clubhouse grounds to get to her house first. He parked his bike and was already walking toward her with long strides by the time she parked. He wrenched her door open. The wind caught the hem of her skirt, sweeping it up like a bell as she stepped out of the truck. Belatedly, she remembered she’d meant to change before coming back here.

Max pulled her forward, then shut the door and pinned her against it. “Not another foot until you talk to me.”

“I have to go.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Owen said—”

“Fuck Owen all to hell. This is only you and me right now.”

“I’m a distraction to you, Mads, one you can’t afford right now.”

Max shook his head. “You’re a helluva lot more than a distraction. You’re all the lost parts of me. You’re the only thing that makes my life worth living, Hope.” He lifted his lips away from his clenched teeth and leaned close to her. “Read me?”

Tears splashed on her cheeks. She lifted her hands to hold his face. “I lo—”

He blocked her words with his fingers. “Don’t. People who love me have a sad track record of dying. I would so much rather you were alive and hated me than dead and loved me.” Still keeping his hand on her mouth, he leaned over her, tucking himself all around her.
 

She circled his chest with her arms, holding him as tight as she could. He wrapped his arms around her head and shoulders, pressing her face into his chest. It felt so wonderful to be right where she was. She pulled a long breath, sucking in the scent of him. Night wind and hot leather, a hint of the shaving cream he’d used to clean up his beard for the wedding.
 

She drew back and looked up at him. “I’m afraid for us.”

He pushed a lock of her hair back behind her ear. “Let’s get your things, then I’ll take you into town.”

“We can’t. Owen said—”

“I know a safe place for you to stay while I wrap things up here.”

“But my brother—”

“I’ll take care of him. You know that.”
 

Max took her hand and led her inside. Her satchel was on the floor of the closet. He opened it and set it on the bed. He watched her collect the few things she’d brought that she couldn’t live without. There wasn’t much; she was as much a rolling stone as he was.
 

He was glad she was getting out of here. He thought of his fist-chat with Owen and Kit. He’d quit, but he couldn’t just drop the ball, not if he wanted to help her brother. Thank God Ivy had offered one of her apartments. As he watched, Hope stuffed his old tee into her satchel. He recognized it from the dots of brownish spots of blood. He grabbed it out of her bag. “You kept this?”

She took it from him and shoved it back in. “It still smells like you.” She smiled up at him, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. His heart stuttered. He rubbed his chest and looked away, severing their connection…or at least trying to.
 

Christ. He was going to have to let her go, and that was going to fucking kill him.

He watched her zip the bag and come toward him. It was the worst feeling he’d ever known. Worse than forgetting colors or the feel of the sun’s heat. Worse than losing his ability to process a world beyond the six-by-nine hole he’d lived in for three million seconds. He would never love another woman the way he loved her. And he was going to set her free.

She dropped the bag and set a hand on his chest. “Mads, don’t look that way. You’re scaring me.”

He wrapped his arms around her, one last time. He kissed her, holding his mouth against hers long enough for his body to register that he wasn’t alone yet. His mouth opened, parting her lips so his tongue could caress hers. She tasted sweet, tasted like everything he’d ever denied himself so far in life, everything he’d never had.
 

She tasted like forever.

He heard—and felt—her moan as she leaned in to him, surrendering herself. He reached down and caught a fistful of her skirt, then slipped a hand beneath it, touching her thigh. Slowly, he drew his hand upward, over the back of her leg, up to the soft curve of her butt cheek, a half-moon, which was uncovered by her lacy briefs. He ran his fingers beneath the edge, up over her ass.
 

“What color are these?” he growled against her neck, craving one last time with her, a final memory.

“White.”

He slipped his hand inside her briefs, over her soft cheek, feeling the lace against his knuckles. “I’ve wanted to know that since I first laid eyes on you this evening.”
 

He kissed her again. Ran his hands up her back over the bare skin exposed by her halter top. He took his vest off and dropped it on the ground. He broke the kiss long enough to pull his T-shirt over his head.

His mouth returned to hers, kissing her forcefully as he walked her backward toward the bed. She began unfastening the tiny hooks that held her dress together at the small of her back.

“Leave it on. I’m going to fuck you in it.”

When her knees hit the bed, he paused long enough to grab a rubber from the bunch he’d put in her nightstand drawer. She sat on the bed, watching as he unfastened his buckle, unzipped his pants, and pulled himself free. While he opened the packet, he felt her warm palm grip his cock. She leaned forward to lick around his swollen crown. Her lips tugged at his apadravya, making him ache to thrust into her mouth. Desire ripped down his dick and into his balls.

He fisted the hair at the base of her neck, wanting to control how far down on him she went. He loved the feel of her tongue stroking the head of his cock. He fought his own impulses to control their interaction, letting her drive their interaction as pleasure built at the base of his dick. She pulled him from her mouth and sucked his shaft, her tongue flicking the vein that ran along the underside of his cock.

He pulled a slow, hissed breath, then ordered her to stop. She looked up at him, sitting in a pool of chiffon and sparkling gems. He smiled, realizing he was about to bang a fairy.

“What?” she asked, looking confused.

He didn’t answer her. He couldn’t stop his grin as he pulled a rubber over his piercing and unrolled it over his heavy cock. He took her hands and drew her to her feet. Switching places with her, he sat on the bed and brought her forward to his lap. She kneeled on the bed, still wearing her high heels. He reached under her chiffon skirts, stroking his hands up her legs, until his fingertips encountered the edge of her lace panties.

Slipping a hand beneath them, he found the hidden folds of her feminine core. He stroked his fingers along her seam, slipping downward to her opening. She was wet and ready for him. He eased a finger inside of her and then another, stroking in and out as his thumb reached up to find her clit.
 

Holding the edge of her panties aside, he huffed an order, “Take me. Now.” With his other hand, he held his hard cock straight up, every ounce of concentration focused on the moment when he would penetrate her.

 
She lowered herself slowly over the top of him. “Easy,” he coached. She was a tight fit for him even without his apadravya. She moaned as he entered her. He held her hips to keep her from lowering herself too far, too fast. Pushing up slowly, he stroked the sensitive spot just inside her. He pulled back, his grip on her hips firm. Up and back, again and again.

Her hands were on his shoulders. She knew what he was doing and moved with him, letting his piercing pleasure her. He looked up into her eyes. Her pupils had gone black. Her nails reflexively dug into the flesh of his shoulders like a cat’s paws.

He felt the beginning spasms of her orgasm. Her lips parted and she sucked in raw breaths of air. A small line formed between her brows as she frowned in concentration and pleasure. His balls tightened when she cried out. She began to buck harder against him. He eased his hold on her hips, and let her take all of him. She pushed him back against the bed as she took over their rhythm.

He reached beneath her skirt, loving the feel of her naked thighs against his palms. He gripped her slim legs in his hands, holding her against him as he began to rock inside of her. He reached a hand between them, finding her clit, rubbing it, massaging her into another orgasm.

With her dress loosened at the back, he lifted the halter top over her head and peeled it down, baring her breasts. He fisted each mound, gripping and releasing them. Sitting up, he mouthed a taut nipple, one and then the other. He could feel himself close to releasing.

He kissed the soft skin just above one breast and pressed his face to her neck as his balls tightened and pleasure coiled at the base of his cock. He stroked her back, moving his hands over her bare skin, breathing her scent, feeling her softness, knowing for a fact, far beyond any doubt, that he loved her. His hands stroked beneath her hair, catching the back of her neck, pulling her down for a kiss as his release punched free. He thrust hard inside of her, pumping furiously, triggering yet another orgasm for her.
 

She held his face, kissing him, thrusting her tongue inside his mouth, taking him as he took her. When the last ripples of ecstasy eased away from both their bodies, she slumped against him as he lay back on the bed. Her cheek was against his heart, which thundered like a herd of horses. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her tightly against himself.

He kissed the crown of her head. He was buying seconds, milliseconds. His last time with her. If they didn’t move, didn’t breathe or speak, maybe time would stand still.

Hope pushed herself up, her pointy elbows digging into his chest. “I love you, Max Cameron.”

He blinked. Something wet spilled from the corner of his eye. “I told you not to say that.” He sat up. Time wasn’t standing still. It was racing forward and she was still in danger. He shut his eyes and pressed his face to hers, then he lifted her from his lap and set her on her feet.
 

His arm was burning like a fucking cattle brand. He disposed of the rubber, then pulled his pants on and went outside to get a breath of air while she finished getting her stuff together. Night had fallen in the WKB valley. He could hear the normal rowdies over at the clubhouse, but not much else.
 

Max set his hands on his hips and dipped his head. He could do this. He could set Hope free. He gave himself a few minutes in the cool night air, then went back inside the house. She’d left one of her shoes in the hall outside the bathroom. He kicked it aside, feeling anger building inside him.
 

He’d lied. He wasn’t man enough to set her free.

“Hope, we have to talk.” The silence that echoed his words set him on edge. Call him crazy, but something wasn’t right. He grabbed his shirt and vest, and pulled them on as he walked across the living room on his way to the kitchen. No Hope in either room.

Moving faster now, he yanked the door open to her garage shop and flipped the switch. A quick glance told him she wasn’t in there either, but the back door was open. He flipped the light back off and went to the back door cautiously. Hatchet’s truck was parked there, but no Hatchet.
 

And no Hope.

Max went back into the garage and lifted the cover off the grease pit. The side panel covering the tunnel entrance was pushed aside. He grabbed the shop’s flashlight and bent down to enter the low passage to the tunnel ladder. There was no sign of them in the tunnel. Hatchet had either not come this way, or had already descended and entered the main tunnel below. With Hope.

Max went back into the house to get his weapons. Briefly, he thought about contacting Greer, but quickly squelched that instinct. He’d quit the team. He was on his own. They wouldn’t be coming to help him. Now or ever.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Max hurried down the ladder in the access chute. He listened for a hint of sound. All was quiet. Had he been wrong? Had Hatchet not taken Hope down here? He turned to the left, shining his light toward the main tunnel that dead-ended at King’s state-of-the-art silo. Again, there were no sounds to guide him. He flashed his light to the right, only seeing yards and yards of rusting steel.
 

As he took a step out into the main tunnel, his flashlight caught the eerie white face of one of Lion’s boys standing not five feet from him. Max jumped. Where the hell had he come from?

The boy broke into a run. “Hurry! This way!”
 

Max caught up to the kid and grabbed his sweatshirt. “Did you see Hope?”

The boy nodded. “Yes. This way.”

Max followed the kid to the far end of the underground compound, past the control pods and the two communication silos…toward the acid pools. He could hear voices here. And metal clinking, like coins falling on top of each other.