Ultimate Prey (Book 3 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) (44 page)

Her inner thighs trembled and her breasts swayed as he increased his speed, driving himself harder, deeper. Her belly tightened, her sex clenched him. She desperately wanted to come again, but not this way, and not without him.

She shoved away from the wall, reached behind her and latched onto his neck. He skated his hands up her torso, palmed her breasts again and kissed her neck.

“What do you want?” he asked against her ear, his hot breath causing more goose bumps to rush along her skin.

“You. On the bench.”

He eased out of her, then quickly took a seat. Desperate to take them both over the edge, she forced his shoulders against the wall and straddled his thighs, resting her knees on the bench. She pressed their wet foreheads together and looked between their bodies. Her breath hitched as he held the base of his erection and pressed her rear down. Ripples of desire splintered from her sex as his length began to disappear into her heat. She sank onto him. Completely filled, she cupped his face and kissed him. The tips of their tongues danced along each other, before he gripped the back of her head for a deep, open-mouthed kiss. Groaning, she rocked her hips, creating a delicious friction against her clit as it rubbed along his coarse hair.

“More,” he murmured against her lips, and drew her legs up until she sat on him in a catcher’s position.

So close to the edge and wanting him to join her, she used his broad shoulders for balance and moved along his length. Her tired legs shook as she rose and fell. He latched his mouth onto one of her nipples, cupped her bottom and helped guide her over him. He squeezed her rear, then slid a hand between their bodies. When he began rubbing her clit, she dug her nails into his shoulders and moved faster, slamming her rear down harder.

“That’s it,” he encouraged her. “Come for me.”

She leaned forward and sucked on his lower lip. “Come
with
me.”

Keeping himself inside of her, he lifted her again, then half lay her on the bench and took over. She draped one leg over his lower back and let the other fall to the floor, twining her arms around his neck and groaning as he thrust.

Shadows that played off the glistening water coating his skin deepened the muscles along his neck, arms and chest. He looked so damned sexy—she’d never forget this moment. She’d never forget the way his body moved over hers, the way he kissed and made love.

She’d never forget him.

Those familiar ripples of pleasure rushed from her sex with each stimulating drive of his hips. She moved a hand down his back and gripped his tight rear. “So close,” she murmured. “Harder. I—”

Her orgasm shot through her body. She arched her back as he plunged deeper, faster, multiplying the ecstasy, the pure rapture. With a grunt he quickly pulled out and came across her belly. She let go of his neck, took his erection in her hand and rubbed him until he fell forward. He kissed her temple, her cheek, then her lips. Breathing hard, he pushed up, and taking her with him, stood under the spray. After he washed her stomach, he pulled her into his arms again and simply held her.

“That was supposed to happen after we showered,” he said, his tone apologetic. “I wanted to make love in a bed.”

She leaned back and met his gaze. “Then I guess we’ll have to do it again.”

Grinning, he reached behind him, then shut off the water. After grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her, he said, “A few times for good measure.”

She laughed, and began toweling off her hair and body. “An excellent idea.”

Minutes later, they finally made it to his bedroom, which was large and held a king-sized bed, tall dresser and nightstand. The walls were stark white and bare, the bedding clean but plain.

“This will be the last room I renovate,” he said, pulling back the comforter.

She hung the towel on the doorknob, then climbed onto the mattress. “It’s cozy.”

“It’s boring.” He eyed her hair. “Hang tight.” As he left the room, he snagged her towel and took it with him. When he returned, completely naked, he held up a brush. “Turn around,” he said, and moved onto the bed.

As he brushed her hair, he kissed her shoulder, then her neck. She never realized how pleasurable and erotic having her hair brushed by a sexy man could be and, once again, wished they didn’t live so far apart. She wanted more shower sex, more hair brushing…more Ryan.

Once he finished, he set the brush on the nightstand, then turned off the light. “Come here,” he said, positioning her next to him until her bottom was against his groin. “I’d love to do more than sleep right now.” He pulled the covers over them, then lightly skimmed his fingers along her arm. “But I’m exhausted.”

“I’m with you,” she said, closing her eyes and enjoying the comfort and heat from his body.

“Lola?” he asked a few moments later.

“Hmm?”

He kissed her shoulder. “There’s not a thing about you that I don’t like.”

She smiled, hugged his arm close to her breasts and remembered when he’d said those same exact words outside of the tent. “I like you, too,” she said, her smile faltering. Way too much, which would make boarding the jet for Chicago hard to do. Instead of allowing the loss of what could have been between them ruin the moment, she would enjoy what they had right now. And as she began to fade from reality into that fuzzy dreamlike state, her sleepy mind drifted off, leaving her one final image to fall asleep to—Ryan.

Everglade City, Florida

Friday, 7:42 a.m. Eastern Standard Time

Steven helped Zack haul the canoe onto the wooded embankment. His numb arm and fingertips concerned him. What concerned him even more was not remembering
how
they’d arrived at the water’s edge. His head ached as he tried to recall what had happened. The last thing he remembered was seeing buildings and boats in the distance, and Zack telling him that they should lose the canoe.

Sluggish, lightheaded, he stumbled away from the boat, then steadied himself against a tree. His legs weak, he dropped to his knees, then turned and rested against the tree trunk.

Zack’s ashen face contorted in pain as he sat against the tree opposite to his. “You back with me?” he asked.

His eyelids drooped, but he fought to keep them open. “Not sure what you mean.”

“Your eyes were open, you were rowing, but, man, it was like you were sleepwalking.”

“Microsleep,” he said, recalling the term the Marine doctors had used after he’d returned from an Iraqi mission that had forced him to remain awake for over thirty-six hours. During the last leg of his mission, there had been a few times where he’d moved from Point A to Point B without any recollection. “The mind shuts down, but the body still keeps moving.”

“Whatever it is, it creeped me out.” Zack winced and looked to the gunshot wound on his left thigh. “This bullet
has
to come out of me.” He looked over at him. “Your arm is bleeding.”

“I know. I’ll need to bandage it again before we go after them and get your boat back.”

Zack let out a deep sigh, then rested his head against the tree and closed his eyes. “You want to do this during the day? That’s crazy. We need to wait until it’s dark. And I need to sleep.”

He needed sleep, too. But he also wanted to strike when they wouldn’t expect him. Plus, there was always the possibility they could leave for Chicago. “We need to attack them now.”

Zack opened his eyes and stared at him. “You’re not thinking straight. We go now, kill them and then what? If the cops get involved, we’ll be on the run—in the daylight. We do this at night. I need to rest and do something with my legs.”

He couldn’t wait to kill Zack. Who in the hell did he think he was, not only accusing him of— Shit. He’d lost his train of thought. Maybe the man was right and they should catch a few hours of sleep. Once he killed Ian and his team, he’d be on the run. He would take the money he’d stolen from Chase and whatever Zack had on him, steal a car, then drive to The Keys. From there, he’d find a way out of the States, then lose himself in South America. To do all of that, he’d need to be fresh and ready for anything. Not losing consciousness.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll wait until tonight to make our move. I’ll still want to scope out their location.”

“You’re sure you know where they’ll be?”

No. He wasn’t sure, and Ian and his men were close to seven hours ahead of them. He doubted they’d jetted off during the night, though. Knowing Ian, the man would want to make sure Steven never left the Glades. And if his agents had found the evidence he’d planted, they would stand behind their boss in the hope that they could get away with murder.

Let them try. A smart soldier always had a contingency plan, which had been why he’d left enough evidence to tie CORE to him, his ex and Jordan Marquette.

“If they’re not there, I’ll find them,” he said. If not in Florida, then he’d travel back to Chicago and finish his hunt.

Zack opened his eyes. “I know this area. We’re right by the Glades Haven Cozy Cabins. We make it through these woods and we’ll land on the doorstep of one them. Around the corner from there is a small marina, liquor store, gas station and diner. We could use one of the cabins to—”

“No. We sleep here.” He forced himself to move and grabbed his pack. “I have food and enough water for both of us.”

“What about the first aid kit and gun? You’ve been stingy with both.”

Since Zack would be dead by nightfall, he hated to waste his supplies on him. But he still needed Zack, and would have to maintain the bullshit pretense that they were partners in order to keep the man around and cooperative. As for the gun? Not a chance in hell.

He tossed Zack the first aid kit, along with beef jerky, then pulled out the pants he’d stripped from Chase’s dead body. “Once you’re patched up, throw these on,” he said, tossing them to Zack.

“Thanks.” Zack grunted and winced as he began removing his pants. “God, that hurts,” he said trying to force the material free from where it had stuck to the wound.

“Don’t tug so hard,” Steven warned him. “You’ll start bleeding again. Pour water on it.”

Zack used the jug he’d carried off the canoe to douse both injuries, then took off his boots and pants. “Doesn’t look that bad,” he said, examining the leg with the bullet wound.

“You got lucky. If it hit an artery, you probably would have bled out by now. Since you can walk, I doubt the bullet hit bone.”

“Makes sense,” Zack said, then looked to where the screamer had stabbed him in the leg. “This one isn’t too bad, but I could use a few stitches.”

“There’s a needle and thread in—”

“Hell, no, Rambo. I’m not doing what you did to your arm. I’ll butterfly it for now and wait for Smitty’s doc to do the stitching.” He looked over and grinned. “Did you really put a machete in that gator’s head?”

Steven smiled at the memory. “What do you think?”

“That you’re one of the baddest motherfuckers I’ve ever met.” Zack’s smile fell and he finished bandaging the knife wound. “I’m sorry if I sounded bossy. You know, about not going after the old guy during the day. If we were both in better shape, I’d say we go for it. Since we’re not…I want to make it out of this in one piece and without getting arrested. The more I keep thinking about what me and you can do as partners, the more ideas I have.”

He was no longer a team player and preferred to rely on and trust in only himself. But Zack intrigued him. The man was colder than he’d first realized. He’d mourned his lifelong friend for a millisecond, then recognized that working with him would be a better opportunity. Maybe he wouldn’t use Zack as bait. The man had money, connections and a boat. When he wasn’t being a dumbass, Zack was tolerable. If the man proved himself, maybe he’d actually keep him around and take this partnership seriously—at least long enough to make some money and make his own connections.

Zack had finished dressing the gunshot wound and was toeing on Chase’s clean pants. “Ever been to the Dominican Republic?”

Steven yawned and closed his eyes. “No.”

“Well, it’s beautiful. White sandy beaches, water so clear you can—”

“Get on with it. I’m trying to fall asleep.”

“Right. I’ll be quick. Chase didn’t know this, but I found a contact who smuggles coke into the Dominican, from South America, then out to Puerto Rico and Florida. He’s looking for someone to help him. That could be us.”

Steven opened his eyes. “Sounds risky.”

“It always is, but I’ve been doing this for about three years and haven’t gotten caught yet. If we don’t like the terms, we don’t do it. As businessmen, we get to pick and choose jobs
and
locations.” He sighed, then rested his head against the tree and grinned. “Just a little something for you to think about when you’re not daydreaming about killing the old guy.”

Smiling, Steven moved the pack closer, then shifted and used it as a pillow. He closed his eyes. “I’ll think about it,” he said, and actually meant it. He had no one and no place to go. Zack offered him the chance to start his life over. Once he killed Ian, he would baptize himself with the little prick’s blood, then wash away the memories and begin anew.

He imagined the fear and panic he would inflict on Ian and the others, along with the bloodshed. But as he drifted off to sleep, those images changed—to him standing on a boat, the sun beating down on him, the saltwater breeze blowing against his face.