Primal Force (35 page)

“Only your face on every media outlet.” Maxine grinned. “The phone has been blowing up with questions about you, and what we do here. You're a media darling.”

Jori noticed the other staff members were looking at her with a combination of awe and envy. It didn't make her feel good. It made her feel different, not one of them any longer. Her parents' faces had worn that same expression, mingled with worry.

“But we know the truth. Mostly, she takes up space,” offered Jeff, the only male staffer there. The jibe struck the right tone to bring the group back to earth with laughter.

“Which brings me back to what I want to stress this morning.” Kelli crossed her arms on the boardroom table and leaned forward. “We have several members of the press coming in to do interviews with us over the next few days. I'm concerned about how they're already portraying Samantha in the news. What she did was extraordinary. Feel free to show off what our service dogs are trained to do. It's quite impressive. But we don't want to oversell their capabilities. It wouldn't be fair to our veterans and their dogs. Is everyone in agreement?”

Everyone nodded. Maxine raised her hand. “So, like, are we to dress up a bit, for the interviews?”

“I'm wearing my best pair of jeans and a ‘cute top.'” Jeff raised his voice to falsetto on the last two words. A man who worked with women, he'd become a quick study in their vocabulary.

After going over the more mundane but vital weekly operational issues, the meeting broke up.

“Jori, do you have a moment?” Kelli pointed to her office. Once there she took up her preferred position on the edge of the desk. All three lights on her phone were blinking. With a sigh she moved to her doorway. “Maxine, hold all my calls for ten minutes.”

She returned with a frown for Jori. “How are you feeling? Any injuries?”

“Only a couple of bruises. I'm fine to work. I want to work.”

“Good.” Kelli resumed her perch. “Because I've got a proposition for you. As you know, service dog training programs nationwide can't keep up with the needs of our veterans. I'd like to raise our graduation number from thirty-five dogs a year to fifty-five. To do that I've had to think about the financial resources that requires. Because of recent events, we're being approached with funding proposals from foundations both private and public. There are two proposals that will take me to D.C. next week. Even the governor's wife called to inquire how she might get involved. Frankly, all this has my head spinning. I can't run this place and do all the socializing required to keep money flowing in.” She paused. “You're a good trainer, Jori. Sarah Williams called this morning to thank you because she'd seen your picture in the news.”

“My picture's in the news?” A cold feeling slid down her back. “What pictures?”

“Some taken at the rescue site of you and Sam and Trooper Becker. I suppose you were busy with other things to notice. And, yes, there are photos of you taken from our website.”

“You mean pictures of me in prison garb.” She hadn't even glanced at TV or the Internet yet.

Kelli nodded. “You're a media sensation. They grabbed what they could find.”

Jori subsided into a chair. “My poor parents.”

“No.” Kelli shook her head. “I'll bet that's not what they'll say if you ask them. I'm proud of you. I'm doubly proud of our program at the women's prison. Those women need to see rewards from hard work and determination. I'm so certain of your abilities that I'm trying to work up to asking you to become the spokesperson for WWP.”

“Me?” Jori laughed.

“After all you've done to bring our attention to the public. You're a good trainer, but you're equally good with people. I saw you work with Mr. Battise, a hard case if there ever was one. And the other day you were great with Sarah and Mike Williams. I need someone who's articulate and can think on her feet to go out and talk to church groups, garden clubs, Rotary, Kiwanis, heck, anyone who wants to know more about what we do here. We need to be on everyone's charity list. I'm already stretched to my limit.”

“I'd have to think about it.”

“You do that. Now, being a spokesperson won't substitute for being a trainer. It'll be in addition to. I'll try to scrape together a little additional money for you. But you won't be out of pocket for speaking and traveling.”

Kelli stood, an indication that she was done.

As Jori came out of the office Maxine and the other trainers were staring at the flat-screen TV in the main room.

Reluctantly, Jori moved toward them. “What's up?”

“Luke Tice has withdrawn from his senate race, citing family issues.”

“I guess he does have issues. His father's been portrayed as part of a drug trafficking ring.” Jeff shook his head. “Some people never have enough.”

Jori turned away. She almost felt sorry for Erin.

*   *   *

He was waiting for her by her SUV at the end of the day. The weather had tempered a bit in the wake of the storm. The sun had shone all day, enough radiant heat at thirty-eight degrees to make life normal again. But the heat she was feeling had nothing to do with the day or the sun. Its source was the man she was walking toward.

He looked better than he should have after all he'd been through. Had it only been two days ago? And not a word. She hadn't expected anything else. Even so. Damn.

Jori took her time walking up to him, looking her fill. He was off duty in jeans, a dark cord shirt, and a well-worn puffer vest that looked like he'd owned it next-to-forever. Tall and broadly muscled and on two feet again, even if one was state-of-the-art tech. The absence of a beard still surprised her. But she liked his bare face just fine. In fact, she liked several things about him bare. Maybe not the thought to be having while he was staring back at her. Better to think of something else. Like, if not for the black eye, a stranger would never guess he'd recently been in a near-fatal accident.

Her heart lurched in her chest, knocking aside lust. It would be a long time before she could think about that day without her breath catching. Probably never.

She stopped a few feet away. Time for honesty. “I didn't know if you'd turn up.”

Law noticed she said
if
, not
when.
Did she really think he could keep away from her after all they'd been through? “How are you?”

He reached out and snagged her chin, turning her face one way and then the other. “No bruises on the face. What about your wrist?”

“All better.” She held up her arm as proof. “Where's Sam?”

“Still at the vet's. She's his star patient so he's taking extra-special care of her.”

Her chest squeezed tight. “Is it the frostbite? How bad is it?”

“The doc assures me it's minimal. Her paws, mostly. But it can take up to five days to be certain of the extent, so she stays so he can treat her for a full recovery.”

She swallowed. “Maybe we shouldn't have sent her out.”

“No.” His voice was strangely gentle. And the hand at her chin had become a caress. This was not the Battise she knew. “Don't second-guess yourself. We could have been stuck out in the cold overnight. Becker wouldn't have made it. It was the right thing to do. And Sam was the right dog to send for help.”

Jori glanced at him skeptically. “Am I hearing praise for the Cheez Doodle from you?”

He ducked his head, but his expression was warm. “I guess you are. She's got miles of heart, that dog. Nobody could have asked more of a canine.”

“Then you're going to keep her?”

This time his expression wasn't mild at all. He lifted his head so she got the full effect. It singed her ears. “I'm thinking about keeping everything I picked up at Warriors Wolf Pack. If that's okay with you.”

It didn't take more than a single heartbeat for her to give up being cool and lift her arms about his neck and kiss him. She meant it to be a flirtation. But the moment she touched the hard reality of him, she remembered she was dealing with Battise, a law unto himself.

He swept her up in an embrace that lifted her off her feet and engulfed her mouth with his in a kiss that was hungry and demanding and completely sexual.

When she lifted her head, his eyes were molten and her feet still hung off the ground. “I owe you something.”

She tightened her arms around his neck, wondering if the staff of WWP was looking at them through the windows. “What would that be?”

He glanced at the windows, too. “I could show you here but it might get us arrested.”

He saw her smile fade, and his heart sank. “You should know, Lauray Battise, that what you think you owe me and what you want from me aren't the same thing.”

He set her very carefully back on her feet but couldn't quite let go. His hands gripped her waist. “How's that?”

“You said you'd let me know if you found out anything important. You didn't call about Luke Tice giving up his candidacy.”

He nodded. “I was going to do that, in a little while.”

“What about Erin Tice admitting that she's going into rehab because of her addiction to painkillers?”

“Where'd you hear about that?”

“The sorority grapevine. You remember Chelsea Bennett from the wedding? She called with the news. She said everyone knew Erin had a problem since college but she'd cleaned up her act to marry Luke. She claims a sports injury is to blame this time for her addiction. Chelsea thinks she's just using it as an excuse to hide out while Luke deals with all the fallout that's coming their way.”

“She has no idea. Unless Luke told her what I did.”

Jori looked up at him. “What did you do?”

“Told him I was going to nail his sorry ass to the wall for running his cousin off the road.”

“You threatened him? No. Wait.” Jori gave her head a little shake. “You think Luke drove Brody off the road?”

Law nodded slowly. “He did it, Jori. I got it out of him. And I think I can prove it.”

“Wow.” Jori thought she probably shouldn't feel anything like happy, considering the revelation that Brody had been murdered. But there was a relief in knowing what happened. There had been so many unknowns in her life during that time. “I've always wondered what would have happened if Brody hadn't missed that curve. Now I'll never know.”

A spasm of pain crossed Law's features at her wistful tone. “If Brody hadn't died that night, he would still have been out of your life. You'd already given him back his ring. You would have moved out. You would never have been searched and arrested, and all the rest.” He leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. “It was just pure bad luck, Jori. It should never have happened to you. But at least now, we know the truth. I promised you that.”

She leaned back so that she could see his face. “You did all that for me? A man who never gets involved.”

He lifted his head, his heart in his eyes. “I'd do just about anything to make you smile.”

Jori smiled. “You only have to show up, Law.”

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

“Twenty-two. Twenty-three.” Law was panting. Counting had never been such hard work, or so much fun.

“Twenty- four, -five, -six.” He flexed his hips in quick succession, burying himself deep inside Jori each time.

Jori's little cries of pleasure were his reward. She was stretched out beneath him, her thighs locked around his waist. He held her hands, fingers intertwined flat against the bedding on either side of her head. He was completely in charge of her pleasure. And he had every intention of delivering each and every one of the one hundred strokes he'd promised her.

He took a deep breath, withdrawing his penis until her wet flesh held just the thick tip in its embrace.

Jori looked up at him. He was sweating; every taut line of his face and bunched muscle of his arms and shoulders glistened with his exertions. And she'd never been happier to see anyone struggle so hard.

One hundred strokes.

That's what he'd promised as compensation for the night in Eureka Springs when they'd come together as much out of desperation as desire and he'd taken what he needed and left her marooned. She didn't agree with his interpretation of that night. But only a fool would argue with a man as eager and well equipped to pay as he was.

“Twenty-eight.”

“Twenty-seven.” She grinned up at him. “Circling doesn't count.”

He laughed, a husky deep sound that came from somewhere just north of his navel. “Twenty-eight, now. And twenty-nine. And now thirty.”

Jori gasped as he plunged in so deep, her body fluttered and gripped him. Then she dug her heels into the mattress and lifted up off the bed, following his withdrawal.

“Damn, Jori. You're pushing me.” The admission seemed wrung out of him.

“You didn't say I couldn't play, too.”

Law flung his head back and flexed into her again, wondering how anything that ached so bad could feel so good. He felt like he was going to explode. Not just the very lucky inches of him buried in her wet heat but his entire body would participate in a climax that was seventy strokes away. If …

“You need to talk to me. Now.”

His grumpy demand, so at odds with the liquid ripple of his back, butt, and thigh muscles, made her smile. “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything. Please. Distract me.” The last came through gritted teeth as he made his way stroke by delicious stroke through the thirties.

“Tell me about your tattoo.” The first time she asked, he'd ignored her question.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “It's called the Twin Water-Fowls. It's the symbol of the Alabama-Coushatta Tribes.”

His rhythm slowed, adjusted for thought. “It represents the gift of free will from the Great Creator. We believe each individual makes his own choice between ‘good' and ‘evil.' Forty-three. Forty-four…”