Cat's Paw (Veritas Book 1) (20 page)

It’s a hard winter when one wolf eats another.

*~*~*

Alex hadn’t lied when he’d said the camp was in the back end of nowhere. A rough, shell-covered road, about a half-mile long, led to the structure from the main road. Morgan didn’t know this part of rural Louisiana that well, but she guessed they were somewhere near Bayou Lery, which was south of the lake of the same name.

From the outside, the camp looked ramshackle, a victim of one too many tropical storms. As Alex retrieved the key from under a rotten log near the porch, she rolled the motorbike out of sight from the driveway. Not that she expected to have any company—there’d been no sign of anyone following them since they’d ditched the SUV.

Alex’s friendship with Grigori Danshov should have troubled her, but it didn’t. Grigori wasn’t like his uncle; he’d always worked on the periphery of Buryshkin’s crime empire, and had been sent to prison only because of a money-laundering scheme gone bad.

It was Alex’s admission that he owed his life to Grigori that had touched her. It was never easy for a guy to say things like that, especially to another man.

“Got the key,” he said, holding it up. “Damned weird place to hide it, but I guess most people won’t go digging around in the mud for it.”

Morgan followed him up onto the porch and waited as he opened the door and deactivated the alarm.

“He’s changed some things,” Alex observed, turning on lights as he moved through the camp. “It’s even nicer now.” He flicked on the window air conditioner to suck up some of the mustiness, and the thing rattled to life.

Morgan found she liked the place. The décor was masculine, in browns and blacks. A small television sat in the corner, opposite a long sofa. A table and a pair of chairs sat under a louvered window near a galley kitchen. In the rear of the camp was a bathroom and a bedroom with a queen bed. Just perfect for a single guy or a couple.

Couple?

She looked back at the sofa and realized it wasn’t a sleeper.

Alex noticed. “Don’t freak. I’m not going to ravage you. Actually, I was rather hoping it’d be the other way around.”

Morgan turned to find him close, so close that she could smell his scent, an earthy, masculine one that called to the woman deep within her. It reminded her of how long it’d been since she’d been in a man’s arms as he made love to her.

“We’re safe here,” Alex said, gently touching her cheek. “The closest house is a quarter mile away. You can scream my name as much as you want, and no one but me will hear.”

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. The question in his eyes was as stark as the need raging through her body.

“You sure?”

He nodded. “But I warn you, the first time is going to be hot and furious. No way can I go slow. After that . . . ”

Without thinking, she reached out to touch the tape on his bandage, where it had peeled up on one edge. He caught her hand. Kissed it like it was pure gold.

I want this. I want him, mission be damned.

He must have seen the look in her eyes. His lips tipped up into a masculine grin. “Game on?”

“Game on.”

Rational thought vanished. They stumbled back against the nearest wall, him up against her, the heat rising from their bodies.

“You’re all I want,” he rasped, his voice husky with need.

“Prove it.”

Alex’s eyes widened at the challenge, and then his lips were on hers. His tongue ran over her lips, urging them to part, and then it sought entrance. His hands roamed, as if they couldn’t decide where to start first.

When Alex finally pulled back, he lightly tugged on her lip with his teeth. Morgan couldn’t stop the moan as his hand found its way under her damp T-shirt. He stripped off the garment and tossed it aside, then hooked his thumbs under the straps of her bra and flipped them off her shoulders, pulling the cups down.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured as he palmed her right breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers.

Morgan sent her own hands on a safari, tracing the taut skin under his shirt, then sliding down the back of his jeans. She carefully dug her nails into his firm butt, and now it was his turn to groan.

“Damn, lady.” Alex pulled her hands free and trapped them above her on the wall with one of his. His feral gaze made her body respond, and she tried to twist out of his hold, eager for more than he was offering.

“Too slow,” she said.

“We’ll get there. Just let me play. Right now, you’re mine. All mine.”

He placed his lips on her right nipple and lightly tugged on it with his teeth.

“Alex . . . ”

When he finished with the one nipple, he favored the other, and she found herself falling into sensations she’d long believed forgotten. After his hand deftly unbuttoned the top of her jeans, he pushed them down. When he set her hands free, she shucked them off, after kicking off her shoes. Her bra went next, landing somewhere near the couch.

She stood before him wearing only her panties.

He slid a hand in the top of them, caressing her flat stomach. “Red lace. And a thong too. God, woman, you are killing me.”

“Strip for me,” she urged.

He gave her a bad-boy smile and pulled off the T-shirt, revealing those gorgeous six-pack abs. Then his shoes and jeans were off, leaving her to study the man and his pair of briefs. She ran a finger down the impressive bulge.

“I might be able to do something about that.”

Then she fell on her knees in front of him and smiled.

Alex sucked in a sharp breath, sweat beading on his forehead. God, he wanted her, but not like this. At least not the first time. This had to be for both of them.

“No, not that way,” he said, taking hold of her hands and easing her to her feet. He kissed her, long and deep, and then they were stumbling across the room, finally landing on the couch with her underneath him.

He reached down and pulled off her panties, then began to stroke her nub. She immediately arched into him, seeking more.

“You want me,” he said. “Say it.”

She moaned.

“Say it!”

“I . . . want . . . you.”

“About damned time.” Alex trailed kisses down to the closest breast and feasted on it as he eased two fingers inside her. She moved against his hand, wet and eager.

“Go on, Morgan, fly. Just fly,” he said.

As her body shook beneath him, her cries signaled that she’d found her wings and taken to the sky. When she regained her ability to breathe, he found her watching him, eyes sparkling.

“That’s the first of many,” he said, smiling. Then he remembered the condoms in his wallet, the ones he’d “borrowed” from the safe house. “Ah, hold on, I’ll be right back.”

She caught hold of him. “I’m covered.”

“Then I’m about to go to heaven. You be sure to come with me, baby.”

He began to enter her, inch by magnificent inch.

When he was fully seated deep inside her, Morgan refused to make it easy on him, tightening and releasing those glorious muscles around his length.

“Oh, God, that feels good,” she said, clutching his hips, pulling him in deeper.

“You’re killing me,” he said, panting. Alex clenched his teeth and began to move, slowly at first.

Their eyes met as his rhythm increased.

“I want to hear you scream my name. Can you do that?”

Her ability to speak was gone, and all she could do was nod. He touched her face, kissing her deeply, then took her arms and pinned them over her head again, trapping them with one of his own. She wrapped her legs around him now, pulling him deeper inside. His control vanished as his thrusts grew deeper, more intense. Then he arched forward, seeking that spot that would drive her over the edge.

The world blew apart in brilliant colors as Morgan cried out, shaking her head back and forth, deep inside her own orgasm. With a final bellow, Alex came long and hard, emptying himself inside her.

Alex let go of her hands and sank down onto her sweat-dampened body. She was panting, trying to catch her breath, still pulsing around him.

“Jesus God,” he moaned. He took her mouth with his, sucking and tasting and claiming. Then he leaned back, his arms shaking and sweat rolling down his face.

“Did you call my name like you were supposed to?” he asked.

“I can’t remember,” she said. “But that’s only two orgasms, Parkin. You owe me a lot more,” she huffed, still trying to catch her breath.

He broke out in a laugh, one that came from deep in his belly. She joined him, her eyes shining, face full of joy. This was the real Morgan, the one she kept hidden away. And he’d revealed her to the world.

She reached up and gently wiped sweat off his cheek. In that simple gesture, he knew that if this had been any other time, any other situation, he might well have fallen in love with this woman.

“Shower?” she asked. “We’re pretty sweaty.”

He grinned. “Sure. I happen to know that this shower is big enough for two. You still game?”

A wicked smile played across her face. “Of course.”

*~*~*

The shower ended much like the time on the couch. Then they were on the bed. In no time, he had her moaning, crying out, begging.

“Come for me, baby. Come hard. Do it!” he called out.

She threw her head back and let go, screaming his name as his own orgasm flung him off the cliff once again.

His woman was on fire. He felt like a god.

His woman . . .
That made him pause as he rolled on his back. Since when had he started thinking she was only his? Because that kind of thinking had gotten him trapped once before. He didn’t dare go that way again.

Or did he?

Morgan laid her head on his sweaty chest. “We need another shower,” she said.

“Ah, let’s . . . give it a while. I . . . need to . . . recharge.”

Morgan laughed, rising on an elbow. “Really?
Now
you’re tired? What happened to the horny ex-con routine?”

“Going from nothing to flat-out is tiring, woman.”

She slumped back down onto his chest. “That’s the truth.” She yawned, then rolled on her back. “Why’d you wait for me when you had girls throwing themselves at you?”

He looked at her. “You like chocolate, right?” She nodded. “Okay, let’s say that your doctor tells you that you can’t have chocolate for six years. So you don’t. Not one damned bite. But when that ends, the first piece you eat, would you go for some cheap store brand, or find the most exquisite, expensive kind there is?”

She blinked at him. “I’d go for the fancy stuff.”

“Exactly. I could have had a couple of girls at the bar, or Natalya. Even Anya, if I were into pain. Problem was, none of them were you.”

She gave him a half frown. “It’s more than that. You couldn’t resist a challenge. I told you ‘no,’ so you were eager to prove me wrong.”

She’d read him right. “Partly. Mostly it was because you are a beautiful, desirable woman who I knew would rock my world.”

Morgan seemed surprised at that. “And did I?”

“Oh hell yes. Rocked it like a nine-point-eight earthquake.”

She shifted, uncomfortable now. “We should talk about the situation.”

For an instant, he thought she meant the situation between them, but then he knew she was stepping back from what had just happened. Probably getting too intense. Still, while they’d been going at it, people were dying from the poisoned dope. They did need to get back to business.

“I know Crispin wants us out of sight, but I want to go back into the city tomorrow,” he said. “I have a couple more informants I can try. We can make another run at Natalya. Maybe you could persuade her to help us.”

“Not likely. She’s as tough as an old boot.” Morgan rose and went hunting for her cell phone. Since she was still naked, he found himself enjoying the view. Her butt was just as fine nude as in a tight pair of jeans.

You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?

Morgan sat on the side of the bed. “Lars texted. He says that your sister remains safely tucked away.” She set the phone aside. “I need a shower. Alone this time.”

Alex smiled to himself, knowing that she was just working things out in her head. He already knew where they’d be once she returned to him. No way either of them were going to pass on that kind of pleasure, not with people looking to put them in their graves tomorrow.

Chapter Twenty

September 20th

Plaquemines Parish

Morgan noticed that something had changed with Alex when she joined him after her second shower. Something about the way he moved. He was in his jeans, no shirt, white scars showing clearly against his tanned skin. He seemed at ease, not as wary as before.

She’d done that to him, brought him one step further away from the hell of prison. In return, he’d done things to her that she’d never expected. Sex with Wayne had been good, and she’d had orgasms, but she’d never lost control, not once. With Alex, she had found herself cutting loose, feeling wild. Feeling true to herself. How he’d done it, she had no idea. She only knew that she wanted to feel that way again.

He pointed at a first aid kit on the counter next to a can of soup. “Will you bandage me up?”

Morgan nodded. She delicately removed the Steri-Strips, then replaced them with new ones. “It’s healing well. I don’t think you need the bandage now. Probably best for it to get some air.”

“Thank you. For . . . everything.”

She looked up at him, then placed her hand on his warm cheek, feeling beard stubble under her fingers.

Oh hell, just kiss him.

She did, taking her time, savoring the scent of his clean hair, the strength of his muscles, the growing arousal in his jeans.

“Sex or food?” he whispered.

She didn’t hesitate. “Sex.”

He grinned. “I knew that once I got you going, you’d be insatiable.”

The kiss he got in return did nothing to deny that claim.

As their breathing returned to normal and the sweat cooled on their bodies, Morgan placed her head on Alex’s shoulder. The scent of sex mingled with the smell of soap. He shifted to be closer to her, craving the feel of her skin next to his. No matter how much he’d like to reassure himself that Morgan wasn’t getting to him, it would be a lie. He wasn’t exactly sure when she’d first slipped under his defenses, but this lady was more than just a one-night stand. Every time they joined, the connection grew stronger, knitting them together in ways he could not fathom.

Not possible.

He was just grateful to finally get laid, that “any old port in a storm” thing. Nothing to do with her at all, no matter what he’d told her. He wasn’t a one-woman guy anymore, not after Alicia. Not after the woman who had promised to be with him “until death do us part” warmed the sheets with his partner and walked away within a week of Alex’s arrest.

“Hmm . . . that was good,” Morgan said.

“How long had it been for you?” he asked, tracing a fingertip across a breast, enjoying how the nipple peaked at his touch.

“Almost five years.”

“Damn. No wonder you were hotter than the center of the sun.”

He expected a smile at the compliment, but it didn’t come. Instead he saw a frown forming, which was odd.

“You must have loved your husband a great deal to turn into a nun.”

She went stiff in his arms, as if a steel curtain had suddenly descended between them. Then she was up, her bare back to him, the sheet tucked up against her chest. In his experience, women he’d just bedded didn’t shut him out. If anything, they were resting up for another round. Eager, even.

All because he’d mentioned her husband.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, quieter now.

Morgan took a deep breath, and he couldn’t help but notice the increasing tightness across her shoulders.

“Come on, this is me,” he said. “I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone else.”

When Alex sat up and touched her back, intending to massage away that tension, she flinched.

“Okay, what is going on? We just had a really good time, and now you’re freezing me out. What did I do wrong?”

Morgan looked over her shoulder at him, her face bleak. Then she was off the bed, pulling on her clothes and shoes, her hands shaking the entire time. Like she was getting ready to run.

“Hey, talk to me.”

She paused in the doorway, her back to him, hugging herself. This wasn’t the Morgan he knew. Growing increasingly worried, Alex pulled on his own clothes. When she heard his zipper go up, she turned. Her eyes were glistening now, her face pale.

“It was wrong to sleep with you.”

“Why?” he said, tugging down his T-shirt.

“We . . . It was wrong because . . . I should have told you first.”

“Told me what? Why are you so spooked? All I did was mention your husband.”

Morgan shook her head as if resigned to her fate. “You’re going to hate me.”

He stepped closer. “Not going to happen.”

She moved into the living room and slumped onto the couch. As he followed her, his mind raced. What had her so scared?

Morgan looked up at him now. “My husband was an attorney, one of the best. He was really good at getting acquittals. But . . . ” She took an uneven breath. “He had a secret. He liked prostitutes, the young ones, between the ages of sixteen and eighteen.”

“That had to have been rough for you.”

She gave a sad nod. “Yeah, well apparently paying for sex was a big turn-on for him. He claimed that he always made sure the girls were of legal age, but how the hell would he know for sure?”

He wouldn’t.
The prostitutes would lie because it was all about making money.

“He finally admitted that he was being blackmailed for his . . . activities, and if he didn’t do what he was told, his career was history.”

“Damn,” Alex muttered. “You had no idea?”

“None. I was working a major case—a high-profile juvenile kidnapping. We got the girl back safe, and I was so jazzed. I came home, and there he was . . . like the bottom had fallen out of his world. He told me what he’d done, how he’d had no choice.”

Morgan swiped away tears, and his heart ached to see her this upset. Alex noted that she’d never mentioned the man’s first name.

“I said I never wanted to see him again, and I left him there . . . ” A sob broke free. “I left him alone. I didn’t stay with him, didn’t keep him from . . . ”

Alex sat next to her now, taking hold of a chilly, shaking hand. “Go on.”

“My husband canceled his appointments for the next day, then put a gun to his head. One shot, in the temple. He died in our bed.”

Alex jolted. “Jesus.”

“I came back in the morning to pack my stuff and . . . ”

“You found him,” he murmured, knowing exactly what the scene would have looked like.

Morgan’s tears welled, but she waved him off when he moved to take her in his arms. If anything, she put more space between them.

“Look, I don’t want to be an ass here,” he said, “and I’m very sorry for your loss, but what does this have to do with us?”

Her chin wobbled. “I didn’t expect you and me to be so good together . . . I just thought it’d be fun, and now . . . ” She blinked away the tears. “I can’t hide this anymore, Alex. Not after . . . ”

“You’re not making much sense, honey.”

Morgan straightened up now, her tear-filled eyes meeting his. “The last case my husband worked on was a twenty-six-year-old DEA agent who had been accused of skimming drugs off the top of his busts. They arrested him because they found cocaine in his home.”

Alex’s heart skipped a few beats. His defense lawyer had killed himself a few months after the trial. “Wayne Clifton was your husband?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “I kept my maiden name—that’s why you didn’t know. Until your case came along, Wayne had a great track record. He was brilliant.” Morgan gave a pained smile. “Flawed, but brilliant. It was the flaw that got him hooked in Buryshkin’s claws.”

“Son of a bitch!” Alex surged off the couch. “Your husband fucked me over?”

“Yes,” she said. “His orders were to ensure that you went to jail, or the videos of him with the prostitutes would be sent to his boss and the New Orleans’s television stations.”

This was why his lawyer had been such a disaster: Wayne had purposely sabotaged his case. Before Alex knew he was moving, he’d pinned her against the back of the sofa.

“Your goddamn husband ruined my life! Ruined my sister’s life. And you didn’t think to tell me you were married to the bastard?” he said, shaking her.

Morgan’s breath came in panicked gasps now, her eyes wide. He saw fear and . . . resignation. As if anything he did to her now was what she deserved. That surrender turned his gut to ice. He pulled himself away from her.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me this right off?” he demanded. “Were you too busy eyeing my package?”

“I wasn’t the only one doing the eyeing, buddy. Besides, if I’d told you this up front, you would have walked. We needed you.”

“Damn right, you do, but you’ve been lying to me all along.”

“No, I just didn’t tell you the whole story.”

“Jesus,” he said, swiping a hand through his hair in agitation. “At least when Anya hurt me, she did it right up front, didn’t stab me in the back.”

“She’s no saint, Alex,” Morgan said. “Who the hell do you think was the first girl to seduce my husband?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Anya went after Wayne on her daddy’s orders. She was barely sixteen, and she picked him up at a bar. Wayne paid her a hundred for a couple hours. Then she set him up with her ‘friend,’ a girl named Ina who was fifteen. Anya made sure they were videotaped, and from that point on, Wayne was Buryshkin’s puppet.”

“You’re lying.”
Just like my ex-wife. You just twist the truth to suit you.
“Dammit, you should have kept him home, off the fucking streets, and—”

Defiance flamed in Morgan’s eyes. “Don’t you think I’ve spent the last six years trying to figure out how I could have missed the signs? I was a damned FBI agent. I should have seen what he was doing.”

“No way you’re getting any pity from me, lady. While I was trying not to get raped, you sailed on through your life. It worked great for you that he died. You were free and clear.”

Before he could stop it, her hand slapped him hard on the face. “You bastard! You think you’re the only one who has suffered? I lost my job at the FBI because of what Wayne did.”

His cheek stinging, he backed away from her. “How the hell would they know?”

“Buryshkin made me a job offer. If I worked for him, all evidence of Wayne’s activities would disappear. I told him to screw himself and reported the offer to the FBI. Buryshkin made sure one of the videos landed on my superior’s desk. My boss didn’t want an investigation, so I was gone.”

The Russian never stopped destroying people’s lives.

To see her like this, weeping over a dead man, made Alex pause. Her tears were genuine. He’d been in the law-enforcement business long enough to know.

“Why did you tell me now?”
Why jeopardize the mission?

Morgan’s head rose, her hair falling around her face. Her eyes were red, swollen, full of tears. “Because . . . what happened between us wasn’t . . . what I expected. It was more, and I can’t hide the truth anymore. It hurts too much.”

“Shit,” he muttered. He was headed for the front door before he took his next breath.

“Alex?” she asked, her voice a mix of fear and hope. “I can’t fix it. I cannot wave a magic wand and give you back those six years.”

Hell, that’s what he wanted, the chance to go back and make it right for all of them. Make it so when he first met Morgan, she’d have no reason to hide things from him. No reason to be like every other woman.

But that was all a dream.

Alex grabbed his shoes and was out the door and off the porch before he realized it was night and that he didn’t have a flashlight. He stood still for a time, letting his eyes adjust. A faint light came from the east, a sign of the coming dawn. He’d spent the night having sex with the woman whose husband had betrayed him.

With a curse, he pulled on his shoes and set off down the driveway, not really caring where he was headed, as long as it was nowhere near Morgan Blake.

*~*~*

Morgan curled up on the couch and wept as hard as she had the day she’d found Wayne’s body. It was all gone now, all the beauty she and Alex had shared, all the loving. She’d felt something for him, something more than she thought possible, and she’d thought he felt something for her. It was why she’d finally told him the truth. This was what happened when you mixed sex with a mission: people got hurt. She’d been a fool to think her life could be like other people’s. That she might find a man who could love her.

She’d placed the mission ahead of everything, all about the revenge, a chance to bring Buryshkin to his knees. The opportunity to destroy his life, like he had hers. In the end, she’d manipulated Alex just like their enemy.

Only now did she know the truth: she loved Alex Parkin. The mouthy, arrogant ex-con had stolen her heart, and she’d had no way to stop it.

When the tears finally ran out, Morgan blew her nose, laced up her shoes, and went out the back door. She headed for the water, her Maglite lighting up the path, as gators bellowed in the distance. She’d done the same thing after Wayne’s death, gone to water to find solace. It hadn’t worked then, and she knew it wouldn’t work now.

Sitting on the dock, ignoring the mosquitoes, she found herself remembering the pleasure, the joy of making love to Alex. The shining moments that sent light into her darkened soul. Now it was all gone.

They’d finish this mission, and if it looked as if he was staying in New Orleans, she’d move out of the city. Maybe to another country.

But in her heart she knew the distance wouldn’t matter, because every night, as she curled herself around a pillow, a sad substitute for a man’s body, she would remember Alex Parkin for all that he was. And for all that she’d lost.

*~*~*

She was Wayne’s wife.

Alex remembered how his defender had consistently let him down, made one dumb move after another as if he’d been a rank amateur. Alex had wanted to hire another lawyer, but Alicia had tied up all their money, so he’d been stuck with Wayne. In fact, she’d been the one to recommend him. Was she somehow tied to Buryshkin?

He stomped down the shell driveway, fury boiling off him in waves.

“I’m fucking your old lady, you bastard. How about that?”