Playing For Keeps (Montana Men) (33 page)

BOOK: Playing For Keeps (Montana Men)
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“Shit,”
he
said again with a little more force this time. “You have any idea how messy
this could get? Mac


“Mac…
who?”
she
whispered.

Duel cupped the back of her head and lowered his mouth to
hers. With a low groan, he took her mouth with all the frustrated hunger eating
away at his soul. Desire slammed into him, hot and needy. He felt as if he’d
been run over by a herd of wild mustangs. Burning low in his gut, fierce heat
spread like a wildfire to his cock and balls.

The intense need he felt for this woman bulldozed its way
through his body and settled in his groin. His dick throbbed urgently against
her rounded bottom. She gripped his shoulders and wiggled her hips against the
iron-hard bar behind his zipper. He couldn’t stop tasting her mouth, couldn’t
stop rubbing the sweet curve under her breasts.

His thumb tip smoothed along the delicious edges and he
could no more resist sliding his hand beneath her shirt and cupping the heavy
fullness of her firm breasts than he could stop breathing. The delicate weight
of them fit his hands perfectly. This woman had been created for him and only
for him.

Pushing her shirt aside, he released the front clasp of
the lacy peach-colored bra hugging her breasts and stared at her flushed
nipples. Gingerly, he rolled a coral tipped nipple between thumb and forefinger
until it tightened, then he brought the other to the same tight summit.

Her lips tasted like wild berries. He remembered her
applying a strawberry flavored lip-gloss earlier. Utterly delicious. It was
suddenly his favorite flavor and he couldn’t get enough of it. Duel molded her
mouth to fit his. Nudging her lips apart, the taste of her was both sweet and
tart and made him think of strawberry wine.

He didn’t want to let her go, but this was insane. She
might have been created for him, but she belonged to another man. She was the
mistress of one of his best friends. He couldn’t do this.
Wouldn’t
do it. He released her mouth and thrust her back to her
seat.

“What?” she asked, catching her breath. “Why’d you stop?”
She fumbled with the catch on her bra and snapped it in place.

“I’m working,” he barked, resenting the fact she belonged
to Mac. He hated that another man had first dibs to what he wanted and needed.
Hell, the fact that other men before him had touched her first aggrieved him to
the point he wanted to explode and take all his resentment out on her. He’d
never in his life felt like this. She was driving him crazy! “It’s never wise
to mix business with pleasure,” he said. “It’s best if we leave things alone
and not act on our feelings or…anything else.”

Her eyes flashed fire. “Best for whom?” She jerked her
shirt down. She knew what his problem was and she didn’t like it.

“Mac,
goddamnit,
and me! It’s best for us.”

“I see. I don’t matter in the equation. Turn this SUV
around and take this
business
back to
D.C.,” she said hotly.

“I’m not taking you back to D.C., so stop nagging me about
it.”

“I don’t nag!”

“My orders are to keep you away from there. Don’t you get
it? Someone tried to kill you right after another someone murdered the first
lady. You’re involved in a political nightmare right up to your lovely neck.”

“Molly’s dead? When? How?” All the color drained from her
face. She literally wrang her hands.

He couldn’t recall ever seeing anyone wring their hands.
“Shit,
I didn’t think, what with
everything going on…” His words ground to a slow halt. Puzzled, he wondered at
her familiar use of the first lady’s name. Although Flayme was Sam’s secretary,
that didn’t mean Flayme and the first lady were friends or even acquaintances.
“She was assassinated the same night you and Jayla were shot at.”

Flayme thrust fingers through her hair and took several
deep breaths. “This is bad.”

“Hell yeah, it’s bad. But it might get worse.”

“Does anyone know who killed her?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t tried to get through to Sam.”

“Knowing John, he probably hired the hit man.”

Duel narrowed his eyes. “You just accused the President of
the United States of murder. Be very careful what you say. I doubt you know him
well enough to make such assumptions or allegations.”

Flayme snorted. “I doubt
you
know him well enough to defend him,” she retorted. “John’s a
bastard. If he was tired of her, he’s weasel enough to have Molly killed.”

“Keep saying things like that, I’ll have to charge you
with treason.”

She laughed and flung back her head in defiance. “Go
ahead. John would love that. Then he could have
me
assassinated, too. Something I have no doubt he’s always wanted
to do.”

“Lady, I think you’re insane. The president has no interest
in a CIA secretary, unless you’re a spy?”

She laughed again. “Finally, you get something right.”

Duel choked. “You’re a spy?”

“Not the part that I’m a spy,” she hurried to deny. “You
don’t have to tell me John wouldn’t give me the time of day. I think I know him
better than most.”

“You’re intimately acquainted with him?”

“Intimately? Yes. But not in the way you mean. He’s my
brother.”

“Fuck!
What?”
Duel exclaimed. “What the hell did you say?”

Flayme blinked. “You heard me correctly. Your beloved
president’s my brother.”

“Since when?”

Her brows rose. “Since my birth?”

“Why didn’t someone tell me I was protecting the sister of
the president?”

“Maybe because no one knows, except for John, Molly, Mac,
and me? Let me assure you, John wouldn’t give two shits if I died today. He
isn’t now nor has he ever been the ideal older brother.”

“How the hell did you two manage to keep it out of the
media?”

“What? That the president has a sister?
I
didn’t manage it. He did. He preferred
the world didn’t know I exist and I was accommodating, because you know what? I
didn’t really want the world to know I was the sister of such a self-centered
bastard.” She shrugged. “Besides, we shared the same mother, but different
fathers, so I always had a different last name. No one made the connection and
we left it that way.”

“Yeah.” Duel rubbed a hand down his face and sighed. “But
why the big secret?”

“It’s a long story, one I have no desire to discuss. Just
take me to wherever it is you think I need to be. The sooner this is all over,
the better.”

Duel turned the key and started the engine. “The
president’s sister. Shit. I’m gonna need more men.”

 
 
 

Chapter Twenty-Seven

 

The hottest love has the coldest end.

~Socrates

Annandale, Virginia

February18, Wednesday

 

F
orty-three
hours after the assassination…

Sam
leaned her head against the back of the car seat and barely stifled a whimper.
It had been a hellishly long day and it wasn’t over yet. She glanced toward
Travis who was sliding behind the wheel and reaching for his seat belt at the
same time. “I’m sorry to delay you, Travis, but I didn’t want to return to
Flayme’s house alone.”

He
cut her a sharp look. “Like I’d let you go there alone? You’re as ready to go
home as I am.”

“Yes,
home sounds wonderful, what I’d give to kick off my heels and prop my feet up
for twenty minutes.” She moaned at the thought. The idea of relaxing with a
glass of wine sounded like heaven.

“What
do you think happened that Neil didn’t come in or call?” Travis asked,
adjusting the heater control.

She
shrugged. “Who knows? He disobeyed a direct order to report to my office. As
far as I’m concerned, it makes it easier to fire him.”

In spite of the icy highways, Travis made the trip to
Flayme’s house in record time, mainly because there were very few cars on the road,
plus he was an excellent driver. When he pulled in
Flayme’s
drive, they
 
looked at each other,
surprised to see lights blazing in the living room.

“What
the hell?” Travis killed the engine. “Who—”

“Neil!”
Sam said through clenched teeth. “He must have decided to pay another visit in
hopes of catching Flayme here.”

Travis
pulled out the key and pushed open the car door. By the time he exited the car,
she was already headed to the front door. “Sam! Wait! Don’t go charging in
there. You don’t know for a fact that it’s Neil in there.”

She
waited, but inside Sam fumed. This time, she intended to tell Neil Turner
exactly what she thought of him. “Hurry up!”

Travis
pocketed the keys, stepped in front of her and tried the door. “Don’t be so
impulsive. It’ll get you killed.” He twisted the doorknob and the door swung
open, nice and easy. “Flayme would crap a turd a mile long if she knew Neil was
coming and going in her home as he pleases. The man has balls, I’ll give him
that.”

Sam didn’t try to hide her disgust. “Either that or he’s
such an idiot, he’s not thinking how Flayme’s going to react when she finds out
he believes he’s a welcome guest.”

Even
though Travis tried to hold her back, Sam moved around him and stepped inside
the entry hall. The house was deathly quiet. An itch settled at the back of her
neck. She had a feeling someone was lurking. She pulled her Glock and moved
into the living room. Nothing.

Travis
edged up beside her. “I swear to God, if you enter another room ahead of me,
I’ll wring your beautiful neck.”

Sam
shot him a look. “Oh, it’s okay for you to get killed, but not me? I’m the
senior agent here. I give the orders, not you.”

He
gripped her elbow and twisted her round to face him. “And I’m the man who loves
you. I’d die if something happened to you, so damn it,
stop
rushing in ahead of me.”

Sam
froze. He’d never told her he loved her. Why the hell did he choose now, in the
least unromantic of circumstances, to tell her he loved her? “You love me?” Oh
duh! That was not what she meant to say.

Travis
frowned. “Haven’t I been telling you that for six goddamn years?”

“No.
You’ve never told me you love me, just that you wanted me.”

“I
do want you. Good grief, woman, I wanna marry you. I’m so damn crazy in love
with you, you’re driving me nuts!”

“No,
you want Hayley.”

“Sam, don’t. Don’t do this,” he said huskily. “You always
look for some excuse to push me away.”

“I’m
not doing anything!” she denied.

“Yes,
you are. You’re running scared, terrified to accept the fact I love you and
want to be a part of your life.”

She
snorted. “You don’t wanna be a part of my life. You wanna be a part of
Hayley’s.”

His
brows knitted together. “Fuck! You honestly believe I’d use my daughter to get
to you? Boy thanks. Your opinion of me sinks lower by the day. You know what,
forget it. I’ve known for a long time that the woman inside you died right
along with David.” He shook his head. “You blame yourself because you were in
my bed, underneath me, my cock inside you and you begging for me to take you
again when he got whacked.” He gripped her by the shoulders. “Well, go ahead,
sweetheart, wallow in your guilt. But if your precious David had been home
where he should have been and not fucking another cop’s wife, he wouldn’t have
gotten blasted with that shotgun.”

“What?”
Sam swayed. “What are you talking about? David was killed by a lone gunman
while on duty.”

Travis
snorted. “He was killed by a lone gunman, it’s true, but he wasn’t on duty. He
was at Jeff Martin’s house, his partner. David was banging Jeff’s ol’ lady and
had been for months. While you were away getting yourself shot at for his
country, he played cheating games. That day, Jeff got out of court earlier than
he was supposed to. He walked in and caught them. Jeff lost it. You can figure
out the rest.”

Sam felt tears sting her eyes. “I don’t believe you. David
was intensely jealous. He was always accusing me of sleeping with you.”

“What?” Travis blinked. “My God, I never touched you, not
until that day. The sorry bastard, he accused you to keep you from suspecting
him.”

Sam felt as if she’d been punched in the solar plexus with
a hard fist. “I never suspected…”

“Is that why he beat you?”

She turned her head away.

Travis cupped her chin with his long fingers and turned
her face toward him. “You have nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Don’t I?”

“No. It was his shame. The man was a brute and he treated
you abominably.”

“I broke my marriage vows.”

“Sam, I know I was the only other man you ever slept with.
You weren’t cheating for the sake of cheating and you’ve lived like a nun
since. Sweetheart, David cheated long before you slept with me. He was violent,
irrational, and he thought because he was a cop, he could get by with
intimidating and beating you. If he hadn’t got killed, all hell would have
broken loose. I had every intention of facing him. You were mine. You
are
mine.” He paused and searched her
wounded gaze. “He really beat you because of me? Don’t look away. Not again.”

“Yes,” she said her words hoarse. She fidgeted,
uncomfortable discussing the abusive relationship she’d had with her husband.
Sam was a very private person and it made her squirm to think Travis knew so
much about her personal life. “He always accused me of sleeping with you.
Sometimes he’d slap me before I left on a mission with you, but he never beat
me, not like that last time before you and I left. He was so angry, making wild
accusations. He refused to believe I wasn’t sleeping with you.”

“His own guilty conscience,” Travis replied.

She dashed the tears from her eyes. “You enjoyed telling
me he was cheating on me. Didn’t you?”

“No, of course not.” He hesitated. “Maybe. Hell, I don’t
know.” He thrust fingers through his thick hair. “It is way past time you took
David off his damn pedestal and woke up.”

“You say you love me?” She sneered. “When you love
someone, you don’t deliberately hurt them. Believe me I never put David on a
pedestal.”

“You hurt me, Sam. The way you kept Hayley from me hurts.”
He gripped her by her upper arms. “The sad thing is I don’t think you care. Do
you even care?”

Her lips quivered. “I’ve never said I love you.”

Travis let go and backed up a step. The color faded from
his face. He seriously looked like the world had crumbled away from beneath his
feet. “You’re right,” he choked, “you’ve never said you love me. My bad. Like a
fool, I just keep walking into the hurt you dish out. You know what?” He gave a
choked laugh. “It’s more than time I cut my losses and walk away. I’ll put in
for a transfer first thing in the morning. I’d like that approved immediately.”

Sam heard the bitterness in his words, his voice. God, she
hadn’t meant to hurt him. She’d been making an off-the-wall statement. She
hadn’t meant for it to strike like an arrow into his heart. “Travis…” Her voice
caught on a little hitch.

She couldn’t do this.

She couldn’t be what he wanted her to be,
needed
her to be. He was right about one
thing though—she hadn’t put David to rest, not because she still loved him, but
because she’d hated him and wished him dead.

The morning he beat her, she’d prayed for his death. She
had to live with that. Finding happiness with Travis didn’t feel right when
David lay in the cold ground because she’d wished it so.

Sam whir
led and took off into the kitchen. Oh,
God. She couldn’t seem to stop hurting people. Why couldn’t she stop saying cruel
things to Travis? She’d always hurt him, but she

her thoughts congealed in her head. She froze in her
tracks.
Shit!
This was such a lousy,
fucking day!

“I think maybe


Travis bumped into her back, grinding to a sudden stop. “Shit,” he muttered,
echoing her thoughts. “This sucks! Looks like you won’t have to bother firing
Neil. Someone took care of the problem for you.”

She nodded. “We’ll be here all night. Your request for a transfer is
denied.
Crap!”
Sam sighed and dug out
her cell phone. “I should have gone home. I should have propped up my feet and
had that drink…or three…or four.”

*
* * *

Montana

Blackstone Land

February 18, Wednesday

 

Forty-eight hours after the assassination…

“God,
it’s colder than a frozen woodpecker’s dick,” Rafe said, rubbing his hands
together. He’d built a fire in the fireplace as soon as he and Lacey arrived,
but the old farm was drafty and the weather outside was miserable. It’d take a while
to get the house warm. “It would have been nice if Danger came by and lit a
fire.”

Lacey
giggled. “Maybe he figured we could generate our own heat.”

Rafe’s
lips twitched. “He’s right. We can. I noticed there’s a big, heavy comforter on
the bed and a layer of quilts under it, and then, oh, God,” he moaned in
appreciation, “flannel sheets.”

“You
sound like you’re having an orgasm.” Lacey laughed.

“Almost.
We’ll stay warm. I’ll bring in some wood and keep a fire burning the rest of
the night. By morning, the house will be nice and toasty.” He hesitated. “Are
you okay?”

Lacey
looked up from the suitcase she was rummaging through and nodded. “Yeah, I’m
just trying to find us something warm to sleep in.”

Rafe
took her hand and squeezed it. “I’ll keep you warm, sweetheart. I don’t need
clothes to do it.”

She looped her arms around his neck and tilted her head.
“No, you don’t.” Lacey looked around and suddenly she looked as if she was
going to cry. “I can still see Papa Joe and Grandma Shalene here. They adored
little Joseph. Danger’s grandparents lived here their entire married life. Did
you know they raised him, Coe, and Anna Leigh?”

“Didn’t
know that, sweetheart, Danger never talked much about his family or you,
until…”

“Until
he decided to give me to you?”

For the first time, Rafe didn’t hear any bitterness in her
voice. What he heard was steadfastness. Thank God. The process was slow, but
she was getting over Danger’s betrayal, at least on the surface. “Lace, he
might have been finished with you, but I wanted you, baby. He just made it a
whole hell of a lot easier for me to have you. If he hadn’t let you go, God, I
don’t know how much longer I would have held off confessing how I felt about
you.”

Lacey
snuggled against him. “He stopped talking to me months before you and I got
together. I don’t think he ever loved me. Not really. Not the way he should
have.”

Rafe
tilted her chin. “I love you, Lace, in every way that counts.” He flattened his
big hand across her flat belly. “How soon before we can test to see if you’re
pregnant?”

“A
few days. A week, maybe two.”

“Wanna
work at making sure it happens?”

She
grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

His
brows furrowed. “I don’t want you out of my sight while we’re here.”

“Rafe


“I
mean it, Lace. I don’t like being back in Montana in the first place. I sure as
hell don’t like risking your life like this or giving into Smitt Davis’ evil
demands. The man’s
bolts and screws are all loose. Promise me you won’t wander
away. If you want to go for a walk, I’ll go with you. Swear to me


“I
swear.” She laid a fingertip across his lips. “I’m not so foolish as to wander
off by myself. I know what’s waiting out there. Let’s go to bed. You have
something you need to work on.”

Grinning,
he nodded. “Yes, ma’am, it’s my favorite job.”

She closed the lid to the suitcase and laughed over her
shoulder at him, her gold-colored eyes sparkling. Rafe felt his heart skip a
beat. God, it was the first time he’d heard her laugh or seen a hint of the
woman he’d fallen helplessly in love with since she was attacked by Smitt
Davis.

Swear
to God, he was not letting that savage near her again. At the moment, he didn’t
give a good damn if he had to kill the bastard, legally or illegally. One way
or the other, Smitt Davis was going to meet his Maker. Lacey’s smile slowly
faded. He guessed the look on his face sobered her.

BOOK: Playing For Keeps (Montana Men)
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