Hunted (5 page)

Two dings sounded and Tuck lifted his phone to read a message. “She’s on her way down,” he told them, and put the phone back into his cargo pants’ pocket.

Clay edged back from the others. And it was absolutely
not
because he was nervous about seeing Zoe again, he assured himself.

Tuck’s dark blond head lifted, his gaze shifting to the inner courtyard. “Here she comes.”

Clay’s muscles tightened slightly in anticipation just before her voice called out. “Hey, y’all. Glad you could make it.” The low, husky edge to it made his heart beat faster.

“Good to see you, cuz,” Tuck drawled, a big grin on his face.

“You too, handsome.” A slender hand appeared through the wrought iron gate. She fiddled with the lock that was seriously going to give him sleepless nights and a moment later the gate swung open with a metallic creak. Zoe stepped out onto the sidewalk and hugged her cousin, and Clay felt his heart stutter.

Her hair was black with chunks of deep purple this time, pulled up into a loose knot at the back of her head that left the graceful sweep of her throat exposed…right down to all the cleavage she was showing off in the purple corset she wore.

His tongue got stuck to the roof of his mouth for a moment as he stared at the mounds of her breasts, pushed up so lovingly by the bodice, the indent of her waist highlighted by the way it cinched inward before flaring out over her hips. She was smaller on top and bigger on the bottom and he loved her curves. The black ruffled skirt she wore hit her at mid-thigh, exposing miles of pale, smooth legs set off by killer black, spike heels. Her toenails were painted a shocking purple too, and she had what looked like little crystal bats on the strap overlying her toes.

She looked over Tuck’s broad shoulder, spotted him, and the smile that lit up her face was like a sucker punch to the solar plexus. “Hey, you,” she said softly, stepping back from Tuck to approach him.

When she got within five feet of him he could smell the faint scent of her perfume. Something sultry and exotic and mysterious, light enough that it made him want to lean in to press his nose against the side of her throat and breathe more of it in. “Hi,” he managed, suddenly feeling too fucking awkward. She was tall for a woman, around five-ten or so, with a solid frame. Even though he knew she wasn’t delicate, he was afraid to touch her. Zoe had no such reservations, however.

She walked right up to him, that warm smile in place, golden eyes sparkling against the heavy black makeup surrounding them, and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. “It’s good to see you,” she said in a low voice, pressing those luscious curves against him as she squeezed him tight. Still a hugger.

Clay knew he should pull away, but she felt so damn good and she seemed genuinely glad to see him so he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. And if he was honest, he’d been looking forward to this moment much more than he’d ever admit. “You too.” Oh, hell, she smelled delicious and her genuine warmth thawed the cold place inside him.

Zoe pulled back and grinned up at him, the little diamond stud in the right side of her nose winking in the lamplight. “Hard to believe, but I think you’re even bigger than the last time I saw you.” Her eyes trailed appreciatively over the line of his chest and shoulders, skimmed down to his waist. A surge of blood shot southward, making his jeans uncomfortably tight. He shifted again and cleared his throat, bringing her gaze up to his once more.

“Been working out a lot since I started rehab.”

“Mmm, yeah, I can tell.” The sultry edge to her voice made him think of hot, sweaty sex. Of her tangled naked with him in her bed upstairs. The flirtatious light in her eyes told him it was intentional.

Shit. He glanced at the others, who were watching them with interest. Schroder was checking her ass out. When he looked up and noticed Clay watching him, Clay shot him a warning glare before indicating him and Evers with a nod. “You know Evers already, I think, but not Schroder. Nate’s our medic.”

“Nice to meet you,” the former PJ said, taking a step forward to offer Zoe his hand.

“Likewise,” she said, shaking it. When she withdrew, she looked back at Tuck. “You boys hungry or do you want to just hit a bar?”

“Bar,” Tuck and Schroder both answered at the same time.

Zoe grinned and gestured northward. “Right this way.”

Tuck slid an arm around her shoulders as they started up the sidewalk.

“Are we going to Bourbon Street?” Schroder asked from behind them.

Zoe looked over her shoulder at him and made a face. “If you want to, but honestly, Bourbon’s pretty gross.”

Clay agreed, but snorted. “You live less than a block away from it.”

That keen gaze zeroed in on him. “Doesn’t mean I go there. That’s for the tourists.” Her eyes shifted to Schroder, softened with a smile. “Let’s try the place I have in mind and if you still want to, we can do Bourbon after.”

“I gotta do Bourbon at least once,” Schroder said, keeping in step with them. “Bauer, you been there?”

“Yeah, once.” He was aware of Zoe shooting him a glance, but didn’t look at her as he kept walking.

Some of his SEAL buddies had dragged him from one end of Bourbon to the other back at his bachelor party two days before he’d gotten married. He’d been drunk before they’d started, and so wasted by the time they’d left their second bar that he didn’t remember anything about the rest of the night except for puking his guts out in the gutter at some point before they’d literally carried his ass to a cab and gotten him back to the hotel. Eve had been there waiting after her bachelorette party, pissed that he’d left her alone for the whole night.

He’d crawled to the toilet, utterly miserable; she’d tossed a towel at him and slammed the bathroom door shut in his face. He’d spent the night with his cheek pressed to the cool, tile floor, alternately cursing himself and throwing up until he thought his insides would burst.

“Just down this street,” Zoe called back as they turned the corner. Up ahead he saw the sign for Pat O’Brien’s. They made their way to the back of the bar and found a table for them all to sit at. Zoe stayed next to Tuck, but her eyes followed Clay as he rounded the table to sit at the far end.

“So what’s the specialty here?” Schroder asked, looking like a kid in a candy store as he glanced around the busy bar.

“You gotta have a hurricane,” Zoe told him. “They’re strong, but you guys are big boys so I’m sure you can hold your liquor better than I can.”

“Hurricane it is.” Schroder jumped off his chair. “I’ll get the first round. You guys all want one?”

“Sure,” Tuck said. Zoe and Evers nodded too, then Schroder looked at Clay.

“Beer,” he said.

“Seriously? So boring.”

“Beer’s good.” He was pretty sure he’d had more than a few hurricanes at his bachelor party, and a couple of those damn absinthe things too.

As Schroder went off to the bar, Clay tried not to focus on Zoe. She was talking with both Tuck and Evers, who flanked her, her husky laugh at whatever they were saying tightening his insides. Schroder was still at the bar when she looked over at Clay. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

She studied his face for a moment. “You just seem really quiet. Even for you.”

“That’s Bauer, life of the party,” Tuck said dryly.

Rather than laugh it off, Zoe got up, came around the table and pulled out the seat beside him. When she had something to say, she didn’t pull punches. Clay braced himself for a full interrogation but she merely lowered herself into the chair and leaned toward him while Tuck and Evers talked. Before she could say anything, Schroder came back with the drinks.

“Hurricane for the lady,” he said, giving her a wink, his damn dimples creasing his cheeks.

“Thanks, hon,” she said softly. Bauer thanked him for the beer and when everyone had their drink Zoe raised her glass. “To rough men who stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm,” she said, quoting part of the famous saying by some author whose name Clay couldn’t remember. Zoe would know it though. She knew all kinds of random facts, that busy mind never stopping.

Tuck and Schroder grinned at her and they all raised their glasses with a chorused, “Cheers.”

They clinked glasses and Zoe took a sip of hers while the three men across the table started chatting amongst themselves. “So,” she said to Clay without looking at him. “How’s your back these days?”

“It’s good.”

She turned those gorgeous eyes on him. Most of the guys in the vicinity had checked her out at least once already, but a few were staring at her with open curiosity. He didn’t like it. “Yeah? Good enough to let you get back to work?”

“I’m back already. Our team’s in a training cycle right now, so it’s perfect. Gives me a few more weeks until we go to either operations or support.”

“That’s great. But how are
you
doing?”

He blinked at that. “Good. Why?”

She shrugged. “Not sorry you came here tonight?”

She read him easily. He didn’t want her thinking it had anything to do with her though. Clay looked away, out across the bar to where a band was setting up to play. “You know how I am.” He didn’t like crowds, didn’t do social niceties. Mostly because he just didn’t see the point in putting out the effort.

“I’m beginning to think I actually don’t, no.”

At the teasing note in her voice he shifted his gaze back to her and felt that all too familiar zing of attraction in his gut when their eyes connected. “You know me a lot better than most people.”

She gave a nod of acknowledgement. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She should. Since the divorce he’d made a point of walling himself off from others, especially women.

Silence began to spread between them. Reminding himself of his manners, he took a sip of his beer and lowered the bottle, his thumb sliding over the condensation on the glass. “What about you?”

“I’m great. Working on my next book.”

His mind went right back to those insanely hot sex scenes. “I read them all, by the way. The ones you left for me.” She’d e-mailed him some research questions over the past few months too, and he’d always wondered if it was a convenient excuse for her to keep in touch.

Her eyebrows shot upward. “You did?”

He nodded, one side of his mouth turning up at the surprise on her face. “Yep, all three.”

“The entire book, or did you skim?”

“Cover to cover.”

She set down her drink, turned to face him fully, her eyes wide. “Wow. And? Do you need therapy now?”

A reluctant chuckle eased from him. She smiled in answer, her eyes sparkling. “No. Wasn’t what I was expecting, though.” That was an understatement.

Her smile widened. “Hot, huh?”

Grinning at her smug expression, he looked back down at his beer. “Yep. Helluva lot darker than I expected, too. And gorier.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Never knew you were so bloodthirsty.”

She seemed to take that as a positive, because she laughed softly. A beat of silence passed, and when she spoke her voice was quiet, barely carrying over the noise of the bar. “What did you think of the hero in the third one?”

The one with his very favorite sex scene. “He was okay. Why?”

“Just okay?” She didn’t sound offended, just curious.

He struggled for something more complimentary to say. “I liked the action parts in that one the best.” Mostly the action in between the sheets, but he wasn’t going to say it.

She sat back, looking supremely satisfied. “Thanks.” Actually, she looked like she was sitting on a big secret.

It made him curious. “What?”

“Was just thinking about that hero. He’s very special to me.”

He didn’t respond, wondering what was going on in that razor sharp mind of hers. She scared him sometimes she was so freaking smart.

Her lips curved in a soft smile. A private smile, just for him and he felt an electric zing travel through him. “He reminds me a lot of you.”

Clay cranked his head around to stare at her, unsure he’d heard her right. “Me?”

She nodded once. “You.”

He frowned, trying to remember who the hero had been. He couldn’t remember the guy’s name, just that he’d seemed fairly competent, tactically speaking, and that he’d had insanely hot, rough sex with the heroine. “Why?”

Her bare shoulders lifted, drawing attention back to the creamy skin of her neck and shoulders and tantalizing curves of her breasts pushed up by the corset. “Because you’ve got a lot of the same qualities he does.”

At that cryptic comment Clay felt his face grow hot as he sat there, clueless as to how to reply, and though he wanted to know what she meant, he wasn’t going to press for details. She saw him as heroic? Even though he was usually gruff, cynical and rough around the edges? Though if she knew about what had happened with Eve, he doubted she’d still see him that way. “Thanks,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

“Don’t thank me, it’s just the truth,” she said, turning back to her drink. “Celida reads all my stuff and she saw the similarities too. Guess you must have rubbed off on my subconscious while I was writing that one. Anyway, I only told you because I thought it might be kind of cool for you to read how someone else sees you through their eyes.” Before he could respond she refocused her attention on his teammates across the table and leaned in to engage in their conversation.

Clay took another pull of his beer as the rest of them talked, mulling over her words. Now that she’d told him, it was kind of cool to know she’d based one of her characters on him. But how far did it go, and what did it mean? She wasn’t spinning romantic fantasies about him, was she? Because shit, he was so not a romance hero and he didn’t want her to be disappointed when she realized that.

Romance heroes didn’t get arrested and thrown in jail for alleged domestic abuse. And since Zoe had practiced family law, she’d no doubt have seen all kinds of that shit. He would hate his past to change her opinion of him.

Even as he thought it, Clay mentally shook himself. She wasn’t going to ever see that side of him, so it didn’t matter, did it?

The band started up, a drummer, fiddler and guitarist playing some lively Irish-sounding jig. Zoe made a sound of pleasure that hit him square in the chest and straightened. “I love this song!” She shot him a smile, raised one dark eyebrow. “Wanna dance?”