Bounty (Hunted Love Book 2) (10 page)

Rita clung to him, gasping for air, dreading the return to earth and reality. How could a man she'd just met do that? Although they had some of the usual new-lover awkward moments, he managed to touch exactly the right way at precise second she needed. That never happened. Damn, she didn't care how, she just wanted
more
.

Falon rolled to his back with a groan. "God, woman, what do you do to me? That was amazing."

She rolled to her side, watching him. "Yeah, it was."

He caught his breath, muscled chest finally settling into a normal rhythm. Lean abs tightened as he sat up and leaned to retrieve the cooler he'd brought. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a bottle of water, passed it to her and got another for himself. Sitting there, legs sprawled, totally unselfconscious, he sipped his water and watched her, his expression more serious than she'd ever seen him.

She took a drink, and still he had that half-frown. "Is something wrong?" Normally she wouldn't just lie there and let a man look at her, even after the most amazing sex she'd ever had. But not even that little scowl bothered her at the moment.

The frown disappeared with a flash of a smile. "Nothing at all. Just thinking."

"Oh? I'm not sure serious thinking is a great thing after the most incredible sex in the world." The teasing note she kept in her voice kept the comment from sounding critical.

The full force of his blue gaze struck her like a physical force. "I'm trying to figure it out."

"Figure what out?"

"Why, even though sex with you is… I don't know, indescribable, in a good way." His voice stayed low, almost shy sounding. "And even though I probably just came harder than I ever have in my life, I already want you again." The way he looked at her, so genuine and puzzled, said as much as his words. He lifted his shoulders in a little shrug, drawing her attention to the marks her nails had left. "I don't understand it."

Those scratches begged to be soothed, and Rita rose to her knees and scooted to his side. "I don't understand it, either. And I don't need to for the moment." She dropped her head to trail soft kisses along the reddened marks.

The little hiss he gave in reaction encouraged her, and she flicked the tip of her tongue across a welt. "
Fuck!
" He caught her hair with one hand as she started to draw away, and pulled her back. "Don't stop." His other hand found her arm and slid down to lace his fingers with her, then he drew her hand to his cock, still moist, and half hard again.

Any shred of timidity gone, she let her fingers play over the head of his cock, then stroked the quickly hardening shaft. He surged into her hand and made her moan, a needy sound she would normally have tried to suppress.

The way his grip tightened in her hair drew a gasp from her as he pulled her head up for his kiss. The gently desperate kisses from earlier were gone. Now it was pure, harsh, need she sensed. Her body tightened with the realization. This time would be different.

The growling noise he made reached something basic within her, a part that needed to simply give over anything he asked. She didn't wait for him to push her back, just pulled him down with her instead.

He broke the kiss and rose up between her knees, massive hard-on jutting proud, he paused there, eyes glittering with something she didn't recognize. Finally, when she thought she might die from the frustration of needing him, he came over her and slid inside with one smooth thrust.

Her body contracted and arched, welcoming him, begging. Where he'd teased earlier with that clever finger, her hypersensitive muscles responded with a delicious grip.

Another growl rolled through him and suddenly, he was pounding into her hard and fast and deep, driving them both toward some unattainable height.

When it hit, she could do no more than hold on for dear life, the cry frozen in her throat, while her body writhed and convulsed around him. The scalding heat of his release came with a heavy shudder and a hoarse cry.

Rita finally caught her breath managed to open her eyes, more than a little shocked at the intensity. Falon still laid over her, chest heaving against hers. He dropped to the side and lay there, still breathing hard, that odd light still in his eyes.

His mouth curled into a soft smile. "You know, we have to eat our lunch, or Miss Bea will be insulted when I return the cooler."

A surprised laugh burst forth. "Yeah she will." Rita sat up and grabbed the cooler, suddenly ravenous. "And I might starve if you don't feed me."

***

Falon kept their speed down for the ride back to town, reluctant to leave behind the shelter the little cocoon had given them. The prospect of spending a very long time hidden away with Rita created a very strong temptation. Or they could just keep riding, go right past the Rattlesnake and not stop.

Except she had responsibilities, people counting on her. And so did he.

Eventually, the Rattlesnake came into view and Falon took a deep breath to fortify himself. He needed it to force himself to go through with ending the afternoon. Otherwise, he'd just keep on rolling, responsibilities be damned. And somehow, he didn't think Rita would mind all that much. Too soon, the bike tires crunched on the gravel of the lot, signaling the end.

Rita seemed to sense it too, changing her posture from where she'd been relaxed against his back, muscles tensing as if preparing for something unpleasant. Then he spotted the stacked bikes, at least twenty, maybe more, mostly custom choppers and low-down rat-rods. Not the same crew that had been with Kellen before. Trouble?

On alert for anything, he slowed and took them on around the building, wishing his .38 wasn't packed away in the saddlebag, well out of reach. All he had handy was the little .25 in his boot, useless in a running fight.

They made it to the back without incident and Falon edged his bike in under the stairs to Rita's apartment, and hoped it was both out of sight enough, and accessible enough. As soon as they were dismounted, he dug into the saddlebag and armed himself to the teeth. The ragged old 80s-era military surplus field jacket provided the perfect cover and extra pockets for reloads.

When he finished, Rita just stared at him, then stuck her hand out. "Where's mine?"

"You think you'll need it?" After a moment's consideration, he handed over the .38 and kept the .45s for himself.

"Last time those guys were here, it got pretty bad. They have some association with Kellen's boys, but they're different, harder." She shrugged a little. "Kellen isn't here yet, so maybe nothing's started yet." With the butt of the .38 clearly visible at her waistband, she headed for the Rattlesnake's back door.

Falon followed, admiring her matter-of-fact attitude. If something went wrong, she would deal with it. Inside the kitchen, the usual shouts and hubbub of conversations gone still.

Rita paused beside a tall guy in an apron and hair net and said something too quiet for Falon to pick up. The guy shrugged and shook his head, then leaned to speak quietly in her ear. Rita nodded, grabbed Falon's hand and pulled him toward a little area partially separated from the rest of the kitchen, which seemed to function as her office.

"He said one of the bikers came up and politely asked that the noise be kept down. They're here for a parley, some kind of discussion, with Kellen and want to keep things calm." She shook her head. "That kind of thing has never happened before. And Kellen's brother is with them, sitting with the leader."

Shit. It could be something huge, something that might seal Kellen in the penn for a while. "I need to hear what's said at that table."

"I seriously doubt they're going to let a stranger sit that close, don't you?" She frowned a moment. "Hold on, I might have something." She hit a switch on the wall. "Rather, Georgie might have something."

The tiny blonde appeared almost immediately, silent as a ghost, even on the tile floor. "You hear about this shit, boss? And I can't even fucking get close. That nasty piece of work would recognize me, right through his blacked eyes."

Rita nodded. "I know Georgie. I want you out of sight. Get to the catwalks if you can and take one of the other girls with you to help spot. Falon needs to hear what happens at that table. You have anything that might help with that?"

Georgie's frown turned thoughtful, then she brightened. "I might have something. The problem would be getting it there. It's too big to tuck under the ketchup bottle."

"Get it. I'll take care of getting it there." Falon shed the field jacket and started piling weapons on Rita's desk.

Georgie gave him a quizzical look, but took off for wherever she kept her goodies stashed. By the time he finished removing all his visible armament, she returned.

"Here you go, it's all ready to go." She held up a thin transmitter, roughly an inch and a half square. "This part goes on the table." She held up another piece that looked like a little am/fm radio with earphones. "This is the receiver, range is a little less than a hundred feet."

Falon took the electronics, stashed the receiver in his pocket and palmed the transmitter. At the back of the bar, he paused to check out the situation. The head table was obvious. The men had rearranged the dining room to isolate a six-seat table. Three bikers and Kellen's brother currently sat, talking quietly and nursing beers. The others had taken all the surrounding tables and provided an effective barrier around the actual business.

An idea started to form. "I need something sticky… gum?"

Rita nodded and headed back into the kitchen, and after a moment, she returned, gingerly offering a lump of chewed gum. "Smokers on the cook staff, there's always nasty gum around."

Falon took the sticky mass and spread it to the back of the transmitter. "Okay, I need an apron, tray, order pad, pen… all that." The items appeared quickly, almost from thin air, Georgie and Rita handing them over one at a time. "Let's hope I can pass for a waiter, and they're hungry."

Deep breath. He headed out toward the tables. As he passed between two tables full of bikers, headed for the head table, a rough hand grabbed his elbow.

"Hol' up there, mother fucker, what you think you doing?" The biker stood, jacket open to display the butt of the handgun tucked under his belt. "Ain't nobody going over there."

Falon did his best to appear bored. "Sorry, man. Boss told me to get their order. Lunch at that table is on the house today." He shrugged. "But if you'd rather tell them they missed out on a free meal, go for it, man."

The biker stepped back and studied Falon closely. "Alright. Get the order and get the fuck away."

Falon forced his breath to slow as triumph shot through his veins. Another shrug and he turned once more for the target. Stopping next to the guy wearing the President patch across his chest, Falon poised. "Hey fellas, the management says lunch for this table's on the house. Compliments of the owner. Can I get your orders?"

The President glared up, nothing but stone cold killer behind glittering gray eyes. "Why?"

Falon shrugged. "How the hell do I know, man? Boss just sent me over." He had to fight the urge to hold his breath.

The guy nodded, glanced across the table where Kellen's brother sat. "You know anything about that?" Falon took a quick look and couldn't hold back the wince. Dude's face was a patchwork of nasty bruises, scrapes, and steri-strips.

The brother sounded, and sort of looked, like a ventriloquist speaking, with his efforts to keep his features immobile. "I might. Management is a bitch Kellen fucked for a while. Probably wants him back."

Falon's hackles rose, but he managed to hold in the retort that wanted out so badly.

"Okay, man. Give us the lunch special all around. And there's supposed to be two more coming." The curve of distaste around the President's mouth said he wasn't impressed by someone who came late to a business meeting.

"Coming right up." Falon turned and deliberately tangled his feet to tumble to the floor. "Shit." He scrambled, grabbing his pen from under the President's chair—after he stuck the transmitter to the bottom of the seat, hopefully without being seen. "Sorry, man." He climbed back to his feet. "Bad knee, gives out every once in a while." Breath held, he beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

Rita waited in her little office with Georgie, both of them clearly nervous. "Kellen's crew just pulled into the parking lot."

"Good. We need six lunch specials, on the house. Because the owner appreciates their generous business." Falon hurried to dig the receiver out and get it turned on so he could hear.

"…better fucking get here. I don't wait for no motherfucker." That was the President's voice, clearly irritated.

"He'll be here," Kellen's brother kept his voice low, appeasing. "Besides, we have to wait. The boss sent us to get him. Not much choice."

"Why's he want him to do it? I could easily arrange for that fucking sniper to blow his own brains out."

"No, he wants something special for this one. This Barger fellow is fucking a woman the boss wants real bad."

Falon's memory kicked in. Sniper… Barger… Surely it couldn't be his old squad leader.

Someone else at the table said something, but the transmission garbled. At the same time, Kellen and his men came in. Falon watched on the monitor as they swaggered between tables, dozens of weapons in plain view. They'd come prepared for trouble. They sat quietly, ranging themselves among the other bikers until both groups seemed evenly matched.

Kellen's brother stood and relinquished his seat across from the President, and Kellen promptly claimed it. "'Sup." The noncommittal greeting came clearly through the receiver.

"You're late."

"I'm here now. What was so important?"

"Your brother has the details. I'm just here to make sure the message is delivered and you comply with it."

On the monitor, Kellen's eyebrows shot up and he turned to where his brother had taken the seat next to him. "Is that so? Well, out with it."

"Tom, my boss has a job you're uniquely qualified for. He wants you to handle something special with an army sniper and a bitch who isn't following orders too well."

"And what's my unique qualification?"

"It's Jakob Barger. Remember him?"

Kellen glared. "Give me the details."

"The boss had his heart set on a lady rancher, but Barger moved in and started plowing that field. The boss is pissed. He wants Barger taken care of in a very painful way, and he wants the woman back where she belongs, signing her land over to him. He thought the past might give you a good reason to get creative."

"Huh. Never thought to hear that name again. Of course, I'm in. I'll be ready to roll at dark."

The President shook his head. "You be ready to roll when we're done here. And if you're nervous about the company, you can bring an escort."

"I have to grab supplies and some other stuff. It'll take at least an hour."

"Alright, man. The management here sent us a free lunch. Might as well eat up before we roll."

Right on cue, a pair of waitresses arrived with steaming plates and set them before the six men. The men apparently considered the business concluded and began to eat.

Falon considered all he had heard. Kellen was leaving, in the middle of a large group of heavily armed bastards. There seemed to be no choice. He would have to follow, carefully. When Kellen arrived wherever he was going, Falon would find the opportunity to take him down. He also made a mental note to find out how Kellen and Barger might be connected. Kellen had a short service record with a dishonorable discharge. Maybe something to do with that.

And now the stakes had increased. Jakob Barger had been his squad leader. But more than that, he was a good friend, the kind of guy you could count on to watch your six and take care of any threat. He couldn't let that kind thing fall into Barger's lap without at least warning him it was coming.

Rita slid an arm around his waist. "I'm going with you."

"What?" Fear filled him at the very idea. He needed her safe at home, not in the middle of a hornet's nest of killers. "You have to stay here, Rita."

She shook her head and drew him toward the back door and privacy. Outside, she turned to face him, eyes filled with some emotion he almost recognized. "Falon, I'm going with you. For one thing, I might be able to help and I know Kellen and how he operates. For another, I have an ace in the hole with him if we need it." She glanced away, then looked up again. "Besides. I just found you. I'm not letting you walk away that easily."

Falon wasn't sure whether to rejoice or handcuff her to the door. "It's too dangerous, Rita. Besides, you have stuff to do here."

"Georgie can run the Rattlesnake while I'm gone. And I'll be back, with you. Falon, I'm not taking the chance of losing you. There's something special with us, something I'm not ready to be done with."

"Rita—"

"No. It's settled. I'm going. Now go get ready." She tiptoed up and planted a hard kiss on his mouth, then turned and went back inside.

Maybe if he rolled out before she was ready, she would be stuck here, where she belonged, safe. Falon bolted for the camper.

****

Rita couldn't believe she'd said those things. Or that she fully intended to go through with it. Inside, she pulled Georgie aside. "I need you to run things for a while. I'm leaving town in a few minutes."

Her friend shook her head and flipped that blonde mop over her shoulder. "It might not be my place to say, but you grab onto that man and hold on tight. He's a good one." She turned away to tend to some task, leaving Rita standing open-mouthed.

Was she that obvious about it? And what was
it
? There had to be more than the incredible, once-in-a-lifetime sex. And there was, she felt it, just didn't know its name yet. She'd have to figure it out on the road.
They
would have to figure it out on the road. Together.