Perfect Assassin (10 page)

If she had to choose between them she would pick Moon, but then she’d seen him in his home, and with his animals. It wasn’t just his good looks that had attracted her to him.

He made her feel good, feel things she’d never felt before.

She reached for the beer Tate offered her, but before she could take it, Moon intercepted it. “She’s not old enough to drink, Tate.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know,” Moon insisted.

She wasn’t, but the idea of having a drink was also exciting. She had liked the taste of the wine Moon had given her the night he had taken the stitches out of her leg.

“Maybe I’m old enough,” she said.

“Or not.” Moon gave her a look, then led her to the bar. He said to the man behind it, “Rusty, she’ll have a soda. Anything else touches her lips, and you and I will be going head to head outside.”

“Whatever you say, Moon.”

Pris watched the grinning man behind the bar set a can of soda on the bar. Moon put his hands on Prisca’s waist and picked her up and sat her astride a saddle while Tate’s friends gathered around.

Pris assessed her surroundings. The log ceiling was low, lit by hanging lanterns. There were pictures of horses in rough wood frames hanging on the walls. The floor was covered in wood chips and peanut shells.

Tate sat beside her and leaned in, as Moon stood close behind her. He was hovering like a parent, one hand on the saddle a few inches from her butt.

“Well, honey, what do you think of our home away from home?” Tate asked.

Pris didn’t understand at first.

“You know, my party palace.”

“I like it. I’ve never seen a place like this.”

“That you remember,” Moon added, his voice lacking enthusiasm.

Tate emptied his beer bottle and flagged Rusty for another. While Pris sipped her soda, Moon slowly nursed his beer as though he had a sore throat. He had told her he used to drink a lot, but it looked like that had changed.

Suddenly Tate asked, “How about that dance, Alun?”

“She hasn’t been walking on her ankle all that long, Tate, so I don’t think—”

“I’d love to.” Pris butted in, deciding if she was going to have any fun at all she was going to have to speak up.

She ignored the scowl Moon gave her as Tate stood and lifted her out of the saddle. He led her onto the dance floor while a fast dance was just ending. The next one was a slow song, a Western ballad, and to her surprise, Tate was as good at dancing as he was at drinking. She went into his arms willingly and worked to keep her body in time with the music. He whispered that she was pretty, thanked her for coming, and she smiled up at him.

They danced another slow dance and then the music changed and Tate was twirling her around and she was laughing and loving it.

Her ankle began to hurt, but she didn’t want to stop. But then Moon appeared just as the song was ending. He said, “You’re favoring your ankle.”

“Just a little,” she said, “but I’m okay.”

“You won’t be in the morning. Come on. Sit down a while.”

“Hell, Moon, let her have a little fun. Who appointed you her daddy?”

“I did. You got a problem with that?”

“What crawled up your ass, Little Brother? Loosen up.”

Pris felt the crowd’s eyes on them and she knew she needed to do something. “I am a little tired, Tate. I’ll sit for a while.”

“Only if you want to. Don’t do it for him.”

“It’s for me,” she promised and headed off the dance floor to return to her seat at the bar.

Before she could climb back onto the saddle, Moon said, “I’ll get Tate off your back. Stay put, I won’t be long.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but Moon was gone before she could say a word. She watched as he met his brother halfway between the dance floor and the bar. He grabbed Tate by the front of his shirt and pulled him toward the door and they walked out.

She was about to get up when Rusty said, “I’d do what Moon says, if I were you. He’s got a trigger temper.”

“No, he doesn’t,” she argued.

“Trust me, it’s best if you stay put.”

He winked and she decided to do what he said. She saw Moon’s beer sitting on the bar, and she snatched it up and took a large swallow. She’d never had beer before, and she expected to like it as well as she had the wine. She didn’t, but she took another gulp, then another. Determined to try again.

There was less than an inch in the bottom when Moon walked back through the door. She quickly slid the bottle to the side, and picked up her soda.

When he reached the bar, he again leaned in. He glanced at his beer. Then her.

“We’re going.”

“But we haven’t even been here an hour.”

“It’s past your bedtime.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be.” He reached for her and she slapped his hand away.

“I don’t want to go.”

“I’m leaving, and I’m your ride.”

“I’m sure your brother will bring me home if I ask.”

He stared at her a moment, then said, “Have it your way.”

She watched him back away. She didn’t believe for one minute that he would leave her, but that’s what he did, just stopping long enough to say a few more words to Tate, who stood in the entry with a scowl on his face.

She saw Tate look at her as Moon spoke to him, and then Moon left, not even looking back.

Pris scrambled off the stool and hurried to the door. She said happy birthday to Tate, kissed his cheek, then hurried out the door. The pickup was gone, and she scanned the parking lot. He was pulling out, headed for the stop sign to get back on the road. She cut across the lot, ran on her sore ankle to catch him before he drove off.

She darted in front of his headlights. Hands on her hips, she was determined not to move. As though they were in a stand-off, he sat with the engine idling while she stood her ground. When she heard him put the vehicle in Park, she rounded the hood and climbed into the passenger side.

He didn’t say anything, and neither did she. They drove home with him smoking one cigarette after the other, while she stared out the window.

Chapter 8

H
e had acted like an overprotective jealous ass, and Jacy could count the number of times he’d played that role—damn few. And yet he’d played the role like a pro tonight.

He pulled into the driveway, knowing no amount of explaining would fix it. What would he say? You’re mine, and I don’t want any other man’s hands on you?

The truth was, she wasn’t his. Even though he’d come to think of her in that way over the past weeks, he would be the first to admit the feeling was unfounded.

She was ahead of him when they reached the house. He opened the door, and she stepped inside. The fire crackling in the living room gave off enough light to see, and she stopped behind the couch. So he didn’t say or do something stupid and compound the problem, he headed past her, intending to go to bed.

“Wait a minute.”

He turned but didn’t say anything.

“You’re just going to leave it like this?”

She had her hands on her narrow hips, her jeans outlining her curves. She was the most beautiful woman at the Sun Dance tonight, and he’d heard countless comments to that effect all night. He’d nodded and agreed, then had reminded one and all who she’d come with. Outside he’d told Tate to back off; that he was going to take his head off if he touched her again.

Tate had looked at him like he’d lost his mind, then said, “In the old days, Little Brother, we always shared everything.”

“Not this one, we’re not. So find a new dance partner,” he’d said.

It was getting harder and harder to ignore his feelings for her, and still he had no intentions of doing anything about it, or putting her out of his house.

Hell, if she wanted to leave, he wouldn’t let her. Where would she go?

He said, “It’s been a long day, and it’s late.”

“I want an explanation. I want to know what happened. What did you say to Tate outside? Why did you change?”

“Change?”

“You know what I mean. I’ve never seen you that way before. You acted like… I have a father.”

“If you do, where the hell is he? You’ve been here over a month, and no one’s come looking. Not one inquiry.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to step into his shoes.”

“You’re right. It won’t happen again.” He turned to continue down the hall.

“That’s it?”

“Go to bed. If something is still bothering you in the morning, we’ll discuss it then.”

“If it’s still bothering me in the morning that would mean I didn’t sleep. How fair is that?”

Jacy kept walking, ambling down the hall favoring his knee. He heard her coming after him. She bolted into his room ahead of him.

“Okay, I drank some of your beer, when you told me I couldn’t have any. But—”

“Go to bed.”

Instead of doing what he said, she crossed the room and made herself comfortable on his bed, propping his pillow, and scooting back up against the headboard. She crossed her arms.

“I like your brother. He’s nice.”

Jacy leaned against the doorjamb. “Then you should have stayed and partied with him. He agreed to bring you home.”

“You asked him?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“He’s a good dancer.”

“Tate spends a lot of time enjoying life.”

“But not you.”

“At the end of our ride with the Hell’s Angels we chose different, is all. I was sick of partying. It was time to move on.”

“I’m sorry I ruined your evening. I should have stayed home.”

Home…
“It’s getting late. Goodnight.”

“Not really, but if you need your sleep, I guess I’ll leave you to it.” She scooted off the bed. “Goodnight, Moon.”

She started past him. He should have let her go, but the look she’d given him when she’d said she was sorry doubled his guilt. He reached out and took hold of her arm to stop her. She looked up, her beautiful eyes reeling him in like a sucker on a hook, and that’s all it took for him to forget the promise he’d made himself the first week she’d moved in.

“Was there something else you wanted to say?”

He pulled her close, then said, “After I kiss you, you’re going to walk out of here and go to bed. Promise me?”

“I promise.”

The kiss wasn’t what she’d expected. It far surpassed anything she had imagined in her nightly dreams. Her insides turned to mush, and her head spun. Her heart raced, and her knees went weak.

Paralyzed in the moment, Prisca didn’t move. She didn’t raise her arms to touch him, or become a clinging vine, though all she wanted was to be swept up in his arms. She just stood and allowed him to take her mouth.

His lips were firm and warm. Experienced. But then she’d known they would be. He’d told her about the gang of bikers he used to ride with, had mentioned the names of women who had ridden on the back of his bike.

Da,
she had wanted this kiss for a long time, even though she knew she shouldn’t. She was only days away from leaving.

His arms went around her, and he pulled her against him. She went willingly, anxious now for the fantasy. She felt as if she was floating, lost and found at the same time.

He deepened the kiss and she parted her lips. He pressed for more intimacy, and his tongue moved past her teeth. She’d never been kissed this way before, but she wanted whatever he would give her. Wanted to be wanted in the way a man wants a woman.

His hands rubbed her back, slid to her backside. She shivered and wanted more. He was so wonderfully strong, and it felt so good to be there.

It was over with a sudden finality. He stopped kissing her at the same time he set her away from him.

“Now go to bed.”

Pris wanted to protest, but she’d made a promise. If this was all there was going to be between them, she would have to accept that. Not happily, but she wasn’t willing to play another kind of game with Moon. He was too important to her, and she’d been forced to lie to him too many times already. The kiss had been real, too wonderful to cheapen by using her body to trap him into more than he wanted to give.

She headed out the door, didn’t look back. She walked down the hall, entered her room and closed the door. She leaned against it a moment and touched her tingling lips. After a time, she stripped off her clothes and found his flannel shirt. She would sleep in it tonight and pretend he was beside her. She would dream of the kiss and the feel of him. Dream that this was the beginning of something wonderful instead of the end.

Pris tossed and turned for more than an hour, but finally she fell asleep. Her dream came soon after, but it wasn’t the kiss and Moon that filled her thoughts. It was Otto. He was standing in the doorway, his eyes judging her as he held a gun out to her and demanded that she come with him. Reminded her that they had a job to do. Reminded her of the promise she had made to him and her father.

She fought the dream, rejected it and Otto’s demand. She told him no, that she would not come with him. But he wouldn’t go away. His image lingered, his hand still holding the gun out to her.

Take it…take it, Miss Pris.

She woke up with a start, sitting up quickly. Feeling as though she was being choked, she clutched her throat as fear squeezed the breath out of her. She struggled to breathe. Blinked awake, panting.

She felt a presence in the room, saw her door was open.

The hall light was on and someone was standing in the doorway. Oh, God, Otto had come for her.

“No!”

He moved toward the bed, and she suddenly knew it wasn’t Otto.

“Moon?”

“You were talking in your sleep. You all right?”

He was bare from the waist up, his jeans riding low, unzipped as if he’d pulled them on in a hurry.

“Yes…no.”

“Which is it?”

“I’ll be fine in a minute.”

“A dream?”

“More like a nightmare.”

“Remember something?”

Pris squeezed her eyes shut. “No.”

“You sure?”

She nodded. Hugged herself.

He sat down beside her on the bed. “Cold?”

“A little.”

“I’ll get you another blanket.”

“No, don’t. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

He touched her cheek, brushed her hair away from her face. “Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t. Not yet.”

“I can’t sleep either.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

She scooted closer, said softly, “I’m going to kiss you, and then I want you to leave and go back to your room. Promise me?”

But before he could open his mouth to answer, Pris leaned in and pressed her lips against his. She was a quick study, and she mimicked his moves from hours earlier, sending her tongue into his mouth to play and tease and drive him crazy as he’d done to her.

When she backed off, he stood slowly, said, “Goodnight.”

“You don’t have to leave. You didn’t promise.”

He angled his head, looked down at her. “You know what you’re doing, right? Where this will lead if I stay?”

“I know.”

“Then say it. Say what you’re thinking. What you want.”

“I want you to stay with me. Sleep with me. Kiss me, and wherever that leads…I want that, too.”

“I’m not here looking to work off a hard-on. I didn’t come in here to—”

“You were worried about me. Yes, I know. Because you care about me. I care about you, too. Tonight, while I was dancing with Tate, I wanted it to be you.”

He didn’t say anything for a long several seconds. “I wish I knew your age.”

“I’m old enough to know that this feeling is real.”

He sat back down on the bed. “I don’t want you to regret this, honey.”

“How could I regret something that I’ve been dreaming about for weeks?” she whispered, then leaned forward and kissed him again.

He moaned low in his throat, then answered the kiss with one of his own. The smoldering heat ignited, sealing both of their fates.

As more kisses were exchanged, Pris was careful not to make any promises that she couldn’t keep. She still intended to leave at the end of the week.

She watched as Moon rose from the bed. For a moment she wasn’t clear whether he was going to stay or leave. Then he said again, “You’re sure this is what you want?”

“
Da,
it’s what I want,” she said.

Then, to assure him it was, she pulled off the shirt, making herself vulnerably naked.

Koko rose around midnight. She hadn’t been able to sleep and so she had made a cup of tea, then went to sit in the rocker.

A vision visited her soon after, a vision unlike the others. She saw no danger, no one in trouble and in need of help. No reason for her to leave the cabin in the dead of night.

This vision was sweet. The scent of cinnamon from the tea filled her senses and she felt a strong poignant peace in the air.

She closed her eyes and let the vision strengthen and take shape. It circled her in warmth, and she smiled with the knowledge that something beautiful was on the horizon—two lost souls becoming one.

The vision set her heart at ease, and settled the burden of uncertainty that had been troubling her sleep for weeks.

She was always careful with the gift she’d been given. The creator knew what was best, and she had always believed her purpose on earth was to aid his will.

Koko sipped her tea as the vision drifted on the cool evening air within the cabin. When it began to fade, she went back to bed and slept better than she had in weeks.

She was beautifully naked, and he was on fire to touch her. He needed to go slow, she was young…and so damn hot he was afraid that slow wasn’t going to be an option.

“Is something wrong?”

“What?”

She pulled the shirt back over her naked breasts. “You’ve seen me before. I thought— Never mind. Go. I’ve changed my mind.”

“No, you haven’t.” Jacy sat back down on the bed.

“Yes I have. Go away.”

“This is about thinking you’re too thin.” He reached for her and she tried to pull away. He wouldn’t let her. He jerked the shirt away from her and tossed it off the bed.

“Let me go.”

He slid his hand around her neck, and forced her face close. “I want you, you have no idea how damn much. You’re perfect, do you hear?”

Then he kissed her—kissed her as he pulled her against him. Her naked warmth touched his bare chest and he groaned. Pulled her tighter to him.

He let his hand glide over her, aching to touch every inch of her. He heard her suck in her breath, her own hands circling his back.

Jacy dragged in a ragged breath, moved his lips over her jaw to her smooth soft neck. “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long,” he confessed, “for you to touch me.”

He eased her down on the mattress. He knew nothing about her, not even her name, but it didn’t matter. All he wanted was to hold her and make love to her. To satisfy the beast that had been raging inside him for weeks. The beast that had made him jealous of his own brother.

He stretched out beside her and drew her close, the contact sending his erection damn near out of his pants. He groaned again with the thought of burying himself inside her.

He cupped her bare ass, rolled her to the side to bring her fully against him. Her sweet lips touched his shoulder. Her hair brushed his cheek, pulled him further down the road of no return.

“You feel so damn good, honey. Make me feel so good.”

“Are you sure you like the way I look?”

She had to be kidding. He pulled back to look at her. “Should I tell you what I first thought that day on the mountain when I saw you?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you were perfect. The face of an angel with the most beautiful rosy nipples I’d ever seen. That day I had a hard time keeping my mind on your injuries.”

“A confession of the soul,” she whispered, smiling up at him. “I like that.”

“You have anything to confess?”

“I do. It wasn’t the cold that made me shiver all the way down the mountain riding on your horse. It was the feel of your arms around me. And each day since, I’ve imagined what it would be like to be kissed and touched by you.”

Jacy grinned. “And here I thought you liked me because I can cook.”

“That, too,” she teased, biting his chin gently. “Tonight you stole my breath when you kissed me. Kiss me again, Moon.”