Blood Bound (26 page)

That made two of us. And that part would only get worse—if he knew Cam and I were together again, Ruben would get possessive and start pushing boundaries, just to demonstrate his own power. But Cam didn’t need to know that.

“And he has to let me make a living, even while the mark is live,” I said, to redirect the conversation. “That’s why I needed a retainer from Anne. Without it, she’s not an official client, and he can call me away from this little project anytime he wants, to put me back on his.”

“Oh.” Cam’s brows rose in an almost-grin. “If I didn’t think it’d offend you, I’d offer to pay for your time permanently, just so he’d have to let you see me.”

I laughed, in spite of the circumstances. “As insulting—yet sweet—as that is, it only works with tracking jobs. I can track for other people, as long as they’re paying me.”

“Funny you should say that. I just happen to have lost touch with my kindergarten teacher. And my girlfriend from fourth grade. And the obstetrician who delivered me. In fact, I’m pretty sure I could keep you busy—and officially employed—for the rest of your life.”

I laughed again, and it felt
good.
“You’re just stupid enough to try it, too, aren’t you?etrician w

“I think the word you’re looking for is
brilliant.
I’m
brilliant
enough to try it. And yes, I told you I’d do whatever it takes. Knowing about your mark doesn’t change that.”

I leaned forward and kissed him. And it felt so good, I did it again. And when he pulled me onto the couch with him, I went willingly, sparing a moment of pure gratitude for the fact that this stolen moment was even possible, in the midst of the violence and chaos defining both of our lives in general, and this job for Anne in particular.

“How long have you been bound to him?” Cam lay on his side against the back of the couch, and I lay on my back next to him. He ran his fingers slowly up and down my left arm, just brushing the lower edge of the bandage.

“A year and a half.”

His hand went still on my arm. “You’ve been looking for one person for a year and a half?”

“It’s pretty…complicated.” To say the very, very least.

“It’s busywork, Liv,” Cam insisted, frowning down at me from inches away. “He’s playing you. Whoever you’re looking for is dead. That’s why you can’t find him. Or her.”

I shook my head against the couch pillow, wishing we’d never have to move past that moment in time, with him pressed against me and the worst six years of my life rendered a distant memory, even if that meant having to talk about my work for Cavazos for eternity. “It’s a him. And he’s alive. Every time I try, I get just the faintest pull from his paternal middle name.”

“You’re
name
-tracking? Why would you even bother?” Cam asked. Then he realized what he’d said, and how I might take it, and shook his head, backtracking with an apologetic smile. “Not that you
can’t
track by name. But you’re so much better with blood…”

The story of my life…

“Unfortunately, we don’t have a blood sample, and even if we did, it’d be too old to be of much use. All we have to go on is one middle name.”

Cam stretched to prop himself on his elbow. “Liv, that’s crazy. I don’t know that
I
could find someone based only on a single middle name. How can he expect you to?”

He expected it because I’d sworn on my liberty that I could deliver within two years. “I’ll do it. I have to.” Because I wasn’t the only one who would pay if I defaulted on my contract.

“I don’t think he really wants you to,” Cam insisted. “He put his mark on your thigh and he’s obviously been pushing the boundaries of what he’s allowed to do to you.” He looked as if the mere thought made him want to vomit—as it did me. “He wants you to fail, so he can keep you indefinitely. He’s probably counting on you wanting to renegotiate down the road, when you realize you can’t find whatever obscure goose he’s picked for you to chase.”

“No, that’s not it.” But
damn,
did I wish it was. “He’s desperate fo some legitimate news. I have to report to him every week and he always grills me about my progress first thing. It’s personal, and he’s very,
very
serious about this tracking. It comes before everything else.”

“Is that where you were this morning?” he asked, and I nodded. “Then the whiskey shots in your office…?”

“A time-honored ritual and proven coping mechanism.”

“And I’m guessing you can’t tell me who he’s looking for?”

“Nope. Though I’m free to tell the whole world that I’m working for him in some unnamed capacity. In fact, he
wants
me to.” Because he wasn’t allowed to openly discuss our connection.

“So, I guess this mark is the source of the rumors that you’re bedding the boss….” Cam looked so relieved to have found a logical explanation that I almost hated to disappoint him.

“Nope.” I shook my head firmly and felt the couch material snag in my hair. “I can’t figure out where those are coming from, because no one’s seen the mark.”

“No one? You haven’t…?” He let the question fade into implication, flavored by the blatant hope in his eyes.

I propped myself up on my good arm and faced him eye to eye. “Didn’t we already agree not to ask that question? I don’t want to know who you’ve been with since me, and you don’t want the details of my personal life, either. But none of that matters anymore, right?” I said, and he nodded hesitantly. “All I’m saying is that no one’s seen the mark.”

I hadn’t been nude in a lit room for almost eighteen months. And I hadn’t had sex at all in nearly a year. Since word—inaccurate, of course—got out that I was working for Cavazos, everyone I might have considered going home with seemed more interested in proving or disproving the rumors. And no one would press past what they thought to be evidence of Ruben’s claim on me.

No one I’d want, anyway. Anyone willing to cross that mark was just in it to prove he wasn’t afraid of Cavazos.

Anyone but Cam.

“So, what you’re saying is that no one’s seen this—” his hand slid down my stomach and over the gauze material covering my thigh “—in a very long time.”

My breath hitched. No one had touched me like that in years. That was the touch of a man interested in more than a quick fix for us both. More than a story about sleeping with a woman who may or may not belong to one of the most powerful men in the country.

“Just you…” I breathed. And Ruben. But he didn’t count. In fact, he’d never counted less.

“I like that,” Cam whispered, sliding down next to me on the couch. “Say it again.”

“Just you…” I murmured, reaching up with my good arm to pull him closer. His mouth brushed mine, and I lifted my head for greater contact, pulling his lip into my mouth. Tasting him.

A thousand times I’d imagined this, blending memory and imagination to keep from thinking about what was actually happening—who was actually touching me. And now it was real.
Cam
was real, and this moment was real; surely the pain in my arm proved that. A gunshot wound was better than a self-inflicted pinch any day of the week, and the pain was minor compared to how good everything else felt. His hands. His lips. The rough stubble on his chin, catching in my hair when his kisses traveled over my jaw toward my ear.

Being with him was better than I remembered. Better than I’d imagined. The moment would have been perfect, except that…

“Wait. We can’t do this.” I put a hand on Cam’s bare chest and he stared down at me in amusement.

“Speak for yourself. I’m ready.”

And boy was he. But… “That’s not what I mean. We don’t have time for this right now.” We were supposed to be saving lives. Finding murderers. Making the world a better place, one mob boss at a time…

“According to you and Noelle, one of us will be dead soon. So if you think about it like that, we don’t have time to wait.”

“Don’t joke about death.”

“I’m joking about sex.”

“Cam, this isn’t funny!”

He sighed and propped himself up on one elbow, running the fingers of his other hand lightly over my stomach. “Olivia, neither of us is going to die anytime soon. I’m not going to let that happen, so worrying about it is pointless. As for the rest of this…” His hand slid lower, and I caught my breath. “I make time for the important things, and you’re the most important thing in the world to me.” He leaned closer and whispered against my skin as he dropped kisses down my throat. “Besides…” Kiss. “Anne texted ten minutes ago.” Kiss. “They’re all fine.” Kiss. And when he reached my collarbone, I threw my head back. “That gives us fifty minutes to play with.” Kiss. “And I can do a lot in fifty minutes….”

His hand slid lower, and I arched into his touch. My body was alive every place my skin met his, and I craved more. And for the first time in six years, I could have more. I could have
all
of him. It might not be smart. It might even be the last time we’d be alone together, if whatever Elle had seen was related to this new working relationship. But no matter what had come before or what we would be made to do next, these stolen moments belonged only to us, a victory of faith and second chances.

I pulled Cam up for a kiss I never wanted to end, then he helped me get my shirt off without aggravating my injury. I lifted my hips so he could slide the borrowed skirt down my legs, trailing his fingers the whole way. His touch gave me chills, yet somehow stoked a growing flame inside me, and the conflict of fire and ice amplified every touch. Magnified every sensation.

I squirmed out of my underwear while he stepped out of his jeans, and then there was nothing between us. Nothing but memories, and the desperate hope that there’d be time to build a few more.

For one long moment, Cam stood in front of the couch staring down at me. Looking at me as if he was trying to memorize the sight. I looked back, aching to touch him, and treasuring that moment of anticipation, when possibilities abound and reality promises even more.

Then the moment was over and I had to touch him.

I pulled Cam onto the couch with me and indulged my greedy hands, my selfish lips. I wanted to touch all of him, and his desires mirrored my own, and the blaze between us burned so hot anyone standing near would surely have been scorched.

When I could stand no more teasing, no more promises without payoff, I arched into Cam’s touch, aching for more. Demanding it. His laugh was soft and deep in my ear, and his hand played a little deeper. A little rougher. “What do you want?” he whispered, and I groaned, overwhelmed by the possibilities. By needs I couldn’t put into words.

“You.”

“Anything more specific?” His lips trailed down my neck again, and I closed my eyes when he lifted my breast. My back arched when his mouth closed over my nipple, pulling gently, sending waves of heat to echo lower.

“You. Now.”

“Not yet…” he murmured, and I groaned. His tongue trailed down the center of my stomach slowly, leaving a hot, wet trail as he crawled down the length of my body. I writhed beneath him and sucked in a sharp breath when his hands slid beneath me, lifting my hips. His stubble scratched my thighs and I opened wider, breathing heavily, anticipation a wild blaze consuming me from inside.

With the first stroke of his tongue—fire given rhythm and form—his hand slid up my side and over my stomach to cup my breast. I gasped and arched into him, lost in need building with every pause, cresting with every touch. Pleasure coiled, so hot and fast nothing else existed in that moment.

“Wait!” I gasped. But he only pushed my hand away when I tried to pull him up. The strokes came faster, hotter, and I clenched the couch cushion beneath me. Then that single point of heat spilled over, and my entire body rocked with wave after wave of pleasure.

Cam groaned, and for a second, the air was cold where he’d been. Then his weight settled over me and I pulled him closer, clutching at him as the muscles in his back shifted beneath my hand. He slid inside me in one stroke, then stayed there, moaning, while aftershocks of my own pleasure clenched around him. Then he was moving inside me, and that heat built again with every stroke.

So familiar, yet so much better than I remembered, and the whole world funneled around me until there was only him, and us, and the rhythm that defined our reunion. And in that moment, as pleasure built between us, racing toward a conclusion I needed, yet was desperate to delay, it felt possible that there might never be anything else. That we could live like this forever. That I could subsist on Cam Caballero alone and never want for a thing in my life.

Then the rhythm changed. The strokes deepened. And I fell right over the edge of need into a wordless, thoughtless convulsion of pleasure. Cam groaned in my ear, and my legs tightened around him, and we rode the last waves together until electric aftershocks gave way to a pleasant numbness, and he collapsed on the couch beside me, his body stretched down the length of mine.

His hand splayed over my stomach, damp with our combined sweat, and his lips found my ear one more time. “I love you, Olivia,” he whispered, and my heart ahio as if it would break in half. “You think we’ll die if we stay together, but I’ve been dying slowly for the last six years. I’m taking my life back, Liv. Our life together. And this time, I’m not going to let you go.”

Seventeen

M
y phone rang in the dark, interrupting my first sleep since I’d been called out for Rawlinson’s job at two the previous morning. I glanced at Cam’s alarm clock, glowing red from his nightstand. Eleven o’clock at night. Shen had been dead twenty-seven hours. I’d been asleep for three.

My nap was just a tease, and I knew before I even glanced at my phone that it was over.

Groaning, I twisted away from Cam to free my good arm, then reached toward the nightstand to unplug my cell from the travel charger. Cavazos’s private number flashed on the screen.

Son of a bitch…
What the hell did he want?

“Don’t answer it,” Cam mumbled, trailing one finger down my arm as I turned on the lamp. “You’ve earned a nap. Hell, you’ve earned a coma.”