Night Moves: A Shadow Force Novel (26 page)

Again, he bit back a sarcastic answer and settled on the truth. “Very bad. I haven’t seen them since I was sixteen. Have no desire to see them ever again. I’m better off without them.”

“I’m sorry, Kell.”

“I don’t need your pity,” he practically growled at her; he couldn’t stop himself. “I survived and now I stop the bad guys. That’s what I do. I save and I kill and sometimes innocents get hurt in the crossfire. But you shouldn’t try to paint me as some kind of saint, Teddie. Your first assessment of me was probably closest to the truth.”

“You want me to stay scared of you?” She paused. “Reid told me I was smart if I was … but that I shouldn’t let that get in the way.”

Fucking Reid—when did he turn into the fucking Buddha all of a sudden? The man had never had a single, serious relationship in his life either and suddenly he was Dear Abby wrapped in Dr. Phil. “My family wasn’t like yours.”

“What? Mine wasn’t perfect—you know that now.”

“Sounds like it was pretty damned good for a long while,” he said. “Look, my parents were—are—grifters.”

“Thieves?” she asked. He nodded, and she continued, “How long were they like that?”

“My whole life.”

“So you knew that they stole things?”

“Mostly money. And yes, I knew. It was something they were proud of—they wanted me to be a part of the family business. I used to work with them,” he admitted. “I didn’t plan to, just grew up in it.”

He closed his eyes and tried to picture his childhood. He’d mostly blocked it out, to the point where all he remembered were bits and pieces of the lessons
his parents taught him over the years, each one a milestone in their eyes.

Certainly, there were no birthday parties or normal parent-child time for him. He hadn’t really known that existed until he’d finally been allowed to hang out at friends’ houses, and even then, he was only supposed to be there to scope things out and report his findings to his parents to see if his friends were worthy of a grift.

“They weren’t into things like pickpocketing. They called that petty thieving and looked down on it, like what they did was so far above it.” He recalled Reid’s ability to turn his skill for petty thieving into a hell of a career, with a chest full of medals to prove it. “They went for bigger things. We were always moving. Couldn’t stay in the same spot after you’d bilked people out of hundreds of thousands of dollars. The funny thing is, we never had enough goddamned money—they were always broke, so it never made sense to me. The one time I brought it up, my father split my lip and I learned to keep my mouth shut about it.”

For a while anyway, until he grew broader and taller than his father and decided he wasn’t afraid of him any longer.

“I can’t imagine any of this.”

“Then don’t.”

The house shook and, to his amazement, Teddie ignored it in favor of pulling the rest of the story from him. “You don’t trust me.”

“The story of my life has nothing to do with trust.”

“It has everything to do with it,” she said softly. “I want to know all about you—good, bad and ugly.”

Maybe if she knew, he could actually be free—she’d find out that there was no hope of redemption for him and she’d leave.

Anyone who’d want to try to make a life with him was out of their mind. Teddie had too bright of a future once this was all over to tie herself to him for any length of time.

“You said you met Reid in foster care. Did your parents put you there?”

“I put myself there.” He pulled on his clothes; he’d never felt so fucking stripped in his entire life. The wind howled and he was sure he wouldn’t mind if the house blew down around their heads.

He’d take something smaller, though, any kind of distraction. But none came. He was trapped—literally, and it was a trap of his own making.

T
he picture came through Dylan’s email, courtesy of Reid. Reid had taken a picture of the picture with his phone, and while the quality sucked, there was no mistaking that it showed Crystal walking through the Texas U.S. Marshals office.

“I thought all these places were supposed to have security,” Cam muttered, looking over his shoulder. He’d been pretty much connected to Dylan’s hip since Crystal had resurfaced. Riley had been too, although she’d finally relented to some sleep and had gone into the bedroom.

“People let him in anywhere. He always looks like he belongs. Between that and a wicked collection of IDs, he’s got a pass to pretty much everywhere.” Damned
asshole could probably bribe his way into heaven too. “Reid thinks he’s in Mexico.”

“Why’s that?”

Dylan scrolled the email, wondering why Reid hadn’t just called him.

“Probably because you’ll yell at him,” Cam said, reading his mind again. He took the phone from Dylan and read the email out loud—the gist of it was that Crystal had called Reid, threatened both him and the U.S. marshal looking for Teddie.

“Shit.” Dylan paced the room. “I want Reid out of there.”

“He’s not going anywhere until he helps Kell with the Teddie mess.”

“You’ve heard from Kell?”

“No. Fucking too many people using satphones these days and jamming up the lines. Probably won’t have comms until the hurricane passes through. But he’s there. He’s safe,” Cam said.

“Crystal’s going to let me know where he is,” Dylan said. “That’s his MO. He wants me to chase him.”

“Are you going to kill him when you catch him this time? If not, at least let me,” Cam said, and Dylan clenched his fist. “Go ahead if that makes you feel better.”

It wouldn’t. But the ringing phone did, made Dylan grab for his cell on the kitchen counter and look at the number.

“It’s him.” Dylan flipped the phone to speaker and answered, “Crystal, what’s it this time?”

“Your friend—Reid, is it? He’s quite good. I’ve got big plans for him.” Crystal laughed. Cam was already dialing Reid on his phone, mouthing, “voice mail,”
and he walked away so Crystal wouldn’t hear him leave a message.

“Did he kick your ass?” Dylan asked.

“He tried. But you know I give as good as I get.”

Dylan bit back his anger, wouldn’t let Crystal know he was causing an ulcer to form as Dylan stood there with his forehead pressed to the wall. Didn’t want to look at Cam when he returned.

This is my fault—should’ve killed this bastard when I had the chance
.

No mercy was a good credo to live by for many reasons, Crystal at the top of the list. “You too chicken to come after me directly? Guess you’ve gotten soft in your advanced age.”

“Dylan, where would the fun be in coming after you first? And you know me—I live for fun.”

“Yeah, you’re a fucking barrel of laughs,” Dylan muttered.

“I’m going to make you suffer,” Crystal continued, his voice unchanged, as though he was making small talk at a cocktail party instead of threatening Dylan’s life. “You can try to catch me, but if you find me, you still won’t have the balls to kill me. You never did, and that’s your fatal weakness.”

When Crystal hung up, Dylan needed to hit something. Didn’t worry about breaking his hand before he slammed it through the Sheetrocked wall.

The pain that flashed through his fist radiated through every nerve in his body. He cursed, hit the wall again despite the pain, maybe even tried to make a pact with the devil, before Cam got hold of him and attempted to calm him down.

When that didn’t work, he tackled him, pushing his face into the carpet.

“This isn’t helping anyone, Dylan.”

“Making me feel better.” But it wasn’t. Anger and hate curled up in a tight little ball and Dylan didn’t like that he was rethinking everything, including pulling Riley deeper into his life.

“No regrets, my friend. It’s how you always told me to live,” Cam reminded him.

“Maybe I was wrong.”

“Fuck, where’s a tape recorder when you need it.”

G
rier knocked softly and Reid grunted for her to come in. He’d left the door unlocked, because whoever was out to get him—whether Crystal or McMannus—wasn’t going to be stopped by a motel room lock.

She walked over to where he sat at the small table, stood next to him.

“What happened to the other guy?”

“It was a fucking tie.” His fist hit the table hard and he winced. “Goddamned bastard.”

She ran a gentle thumb across his cheekbone. The bruise under his eye was already turning black. And then she took one of his hands in hers. “Looks that way. Was it someone from Chambers’s crew?”

He snorted. “Not even close.”

“Who did this?”

He glanced at her. “Crystal almost killed you tonight.”

She started, but she didn’t let go of his hand. He
didn’t mind that all that much but he reluctantly pulled it from hers. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

He went out to her truck, got on the ground and slid himself underneath and found the bomb easily, the timer frozen, showing thirty-nine seconds left.

He started to sweat just thinking about it, pulled the device off the chassis and worked himself back out from underneath the truck. He cut a few more wires with his knife before he went back into the room and put the disabled bomb on the table next to where Grier was standing.

He sank down into the chair. “This was under your car.”

“He got away because you stopped to save me,” she said quietly and he nodded.

“You should put yourself into protective custody for a while, until we can catch this guy.”

“Do you know why he’s targeting you?”

“Yeah. He’s researched me. Knows I won’t let anyone die on my watch, even if it means letting his ass go.” The words came out in a fierce growl—he didn’t intend it, but even that didn’t scare Grier away. “My family died in a fire when I was fourteen. I was rescued from the house in time, they weren’t.”

“I’m so sorry, Reid. I can’t imagine—”

“No, you can’t. It was my fault.” He glanced at her, gauging her reaction, wondering why the hell he’d chosen to tell her, of all people, instead of Kell. “I was supposed to be watching my mother.”

“She started the fire?”

He nodded. “She was bipolar. Off her meds. Refused to take them, and when she went into a manic phase, it was bad. You know, from the outside, we
were this perfect family. I’ve kept up the act all these years because it was ingrained in me.
Don’t air the family’s secrets in public.”

“I don’t understand why you think the fire’s your fault.”

“I was supposed to be watching her that night. My father stayed up on the weekends with her, but during the week, it was my job. And I fell asleep when I wasn’t supposed to.” He’d woken up to thick, choking smoke and his first instinct had been to search for his mother. “The firemen dragged me out. It was too late to save the others. They said it was an accident, but I knew better. Her fires were never accidents. But I didn’t tell anyone because there wasn’t a point. And ever since then, that’s what happens to people around me—they die, and for some reason, I don’t. I’m used to people trying to kill me, Grier. Happens all the fucking time. I don’t die, but the people around me do. Fucking guardian angel bullshit.”

She looked so concerned, so sad. He sighed and glanced up at the ceiling for a long moment. “I’m all fucked-up, Grier. All fucked-up. You should run from me,” he murmured when he finally looked at her again.

“I know.” She rubbed his shoulder lightly. “But I won’t.”

Fuck it, then. She knew what she was getting. And he reached up, pulled her onto his lap and kissed her, not caring that almost any place she put her hand would hurt, because he was sore as hell.

Except for one place, and that was the only one that mattered now. With her mouth on his, her body doing that sweet little dance of surrender against his,
the pain no longer mattered. Her mouth was demanding, as if she’d been waiting for this. His tongue dueled with hers, and her hands wound in his hair, pulling him closer. He ran his hands up and down her back, wanting to feel her skin on his, not satisfied with waiting any longer.

“Strip for me, Grier.” He murmured the order against her mouth. “Do it, and let me watch.”

“I don’t want to move from this position.”

“Nothing’s going to happen until you’re naked.”

“And then what?”

“And then you strip me.”

“So I’ll be doing all the work, then?”

Reid’s smile stretched lazily across his face but she wasn’t deceived. She leaned back and unbuttoned her shirt, let it slip off and then unhooked her bra. She flushed when he let out a soft whistle of obvious approval.

She was in good shape—had to be. And if she looked at herself with a critical eye, she knew she looked good.

But seeing herself through Reid’s eyes … well, that level of appreciation was enough to last her a very long time. She wanted more. And she was going to make sure she got it.

She stood and unbuttoned her pants, let them drop to the floor so that she was left in lacy, see-through boy shorts.

Reid sucked in a hard breath and pushed off the chair and fell to his knees in front of her as if in some kind of erotic prayer. His hands held her hips and angled her toward him, his face settling between her legs. He put his mouth to her sex, breathed out hot
against the thin fabric and she shuddered at the contact.

If he could do this through underwear …

And then he moved the thin scrap to the side with a finger and his lips found her, his tongue rooting and discovering her core with an astonishing ease. The sound that welled up from her throat didn’t sound like her at all. It was filled with primal need and everything smelled like lust and all her senses were keenly awake.

His tongue continued to seek her as his hands tore away the fabric completely so that she was free to him. Naked, and he was fully clothed.

It was the hottest thing ever, as if he was only there for her pleasure.

And yet, she knew that Reid, naked, would be a beautiful thing and very much worth savoring.

She realized she had nothing to hold on to, but that didn’t seem to matter because Reid caught her hips in his hands and held her in place as he continued to lave and lick and drive her absolutely over-the-edge mad in the most delightful way possible.