Dare You to Run (36 page)

Beyond the doorway, Mrs. Ryland was settling back into her huge bed. He walked toward her, pressing a syringe into her arm so that her blood would show the evidence of being under the influence. He left just as silently as he'd arrived and heard her sigh behind him in the dark.

“She'll do just fine,” Colonel Magnus said beside him.

“I know she will,” Dunn said as he turned and left the suite. “She's earned it.”

“That's something you like,” Magnus said as he kept pace with him. “Careful, it's your weak spot.”

“What is?” Dunn countered. “Admiring people who earn their way? I don't see that as something to worry about. Save your concern for those who try to fake me out.”

The Colonel chuckled. “Oh, I've got concerns about you. Plenty of them. That's what makes you interesting.”

Vitus was holding the door open for his bride. A happy smile was on her lips as she slipped inside and turned her back on her father's house. They'd left the body of the congressman lying on the floor of his office, waiting to be discovered by his people in the morning. The rain was washing away their footsteps, as if fate herself was giving a resounding approval to the night's events.

Sometimes, the good guys won.

*   *   *

“Not too bad for government work,” Damascus considered her quarters.

“It's a far cry from your father's place,” Vitus said.

She winkled her nose at him. “I signed away the better part of my life to escape that, thank you very much.”

Her new husband was laying on their bed in nothing but skin. She indulged herself in a long, slow look that gained her a husky male chuckle.

“I'm impressed,” he said.

“Really?”

He nodded, considering her with a flicker of admiration in his eyes. “It took balls hooking up with Magnus. A brilliant maneuver on your part. I never considered it. You blindsided me.”

She smiled, feeling the compliment warm her. Damascus took her shirt off, baring her breasts. His attention shifted to them, his features thinning with hunger. The sight sent a tingle through her. He lifted a hand and crooked his finger at her.

“Come here, Princess. Your husband wants to adore you.”

She shivered with anticipation. “Say that word again.”

He grinned. “Husband.” He enunciated each syllable, sending a shiver down her spine to curl her toes.

“Perfect.” Just perfect. In a world that was far from it, well she was happy to be surprised by fate.

Perfectly happy, that was.

 

CHAPTER NINE

Carl Davis valued disappointment. He let it sink deep into his soul while he absorbed the impact and let it resonate through him. Everything in life held a lesson. He was a firm believer in that truth. Learning from those cosmic instructions was how a man claimed victory. Life was a vicious sport—the greater the risk, the higher the possible gain.

Of course, there was also the increased penalty for failure.

That was all part of the sport. He was a master at playing, had always had a fascination with the real-life version of gaming. Sitting in front of a screen while he looked at a virtual world didn't interest him, but learning how to manipulate the movers and shakers of the political world, well that made his heart race.

He looked up, making eye contact with Tyler Martin. “You know something? I like a man who isn't afraid to look me in the eye when things have gone badly.”

Tyler didn't relax, and that pleased Carl even more. The man was no fool and he understood the game. He knew there had to be retribution and he was there, willing to pay it.

“Pratt did a lot of things for me.”

Tyler began to shift, catching the hint of an offer to square things between them. His eyes narrowed because he wasn't stupid enough to believe it was going to be a simple thing to achieve.

“Most importantly, he was my main contact between the Raven and myself.”

“Right,” Tyler said. “I understand the Raven is exclusive.”

“He's got an image to protect,” Carl supplied. “Something I understand the value of.” He flattened his hands on the desktop. “I need you to assure the Raven that the loss of Pratt is something I will make amends for.”

Tyler sat for a long moment. “He might just shoot me to make sure you understand how unhappy he is.”

Carl sat back in his chair, the thing groaning. “It's a possibility. The Raven likes to keep his contacts guessing.”

Tyler rolled it around in his head for a moment, before he stood. “I'll be in contact.”

“Good,” Carl said. But he didn't release the security lock on the door. Tyler turned back around.

“The Raven was bringing a lot of votes to the table. In the event that he doesn't shoot you, find out what he wants to continue that service. I'll let him know I'm sending you down.”

Carl pressed the button and watched Tyler leave. It was possible it would be the last time he set eyes on the man, but personally he was hoping for a better outcome. He really needed the Raven on board with his election plan. His face tightened as he considered how many votes he was likely to lose as well as money.

Well now, Damascus would discover one thing very quickly if he lost those votes. She'd come face-to-face with the fact that her haven wasn't as safe as she believed it to be.

Reprisals had to be swift and hard, or no one respected you.

*   *   *

“Where are you off to?”

Vitus was leaning against the doorway, watching his brother load a duffle bag. “I thought Kagan ordered you to take some leave. Thought that was why you were crashing with us.”

Saxon looked up, locking gazes with Vitus. Damascus felt the charge in the air between them, moving under her husband's arm so that she wouldn't miss whatever Saxon might say. Vitus was tense, his body ridged as he waited for his sibling to explain.

Saxon reached for something and tossed it onto the dresser by the bed. It was a photo printed from security footage. “That was taken this morning in New Orleans.”

Vitus picked it up and studied it for a long moment. “Tyler Martin.”

Saxon nodded and pulled open the dresser to scoop out his socks. “I replaced the guard at the Hyatt with someone who would feed me information.”

“The guy who tipped off Carl as to how we left the French Quarter?” Damascus asked.

“Exactly,” Saxon clarified. “With a guy who looks a whole lot like Bradford. I want to know what people tell him.”

Vitus tapped the picture. “Not a bad start.”

Saxon pulled the zipper closed on the bag and slung it onto his shoulder.

“You need a wingman.”

Damascus bit back a denial. She knew who her husband was and couldn't very well expect him to leave his brother's back unprotected. Not when they were talking about Tyler Martin.

“He has one.”

Vitus pushed her through the doorway out of instinct because whoever had spoken came up behind them.

“You remember Bram Magnus?” Saxon made the introduction.

Vitus nodded. “Aren't you set to deploy, Captain?”

“Not for a few more weeks.” Bram offered Vitus his hand. Vitus shook it.

“Does the colonel know you're going with Saxon?” Damascus asked the question on everyone's mind.

Bram offered her a wink. “Just going down to New Orleans for some fun.”

“Right.” Saxon hooked her around the waist and gave her a quick hug on his way out the door. “You two could use a little privacy. Bram's sister is newly married. Seems us bachelor men need to clear out before our blood gets thinned by all this matrimonial bliss in the air.”

“I see,” Damascus said. Saxon turned and shot her a look. She lifted her hands into the air. “Fine. Got it. I know nothing about men roaming through the French Quarter looking for—”

“Women,” Bram informed her as he nodded. “And booze.”

Damascus rolled her eyes and tried not to shift.

Vitus reached out and caught his brother's forearm. “You'll tag me in if you need help?”

Saxon's expression went serious as he nodded. “Oh, and Greer is taking a little personal time, so don't go looking for him.”

Vitus didn't like watching his brother leave. Damascus watched him fighting the urge to follow.

“I understand if you need to go,” she offered, hating how she had to say the words but somewhat proud of herself for getting them out. Loving him meant accepting him for who he was, and Vitus was a warrior. He wouldn't be settling in to become her lap dog.

Vitus turned around to look at her. She caught a shimmer of regret in his eyes but it dissipated quickly, leaving behind a flicker of need that she recognized.

“No, Princess, my brother's right. We could use some privacy.” He ripped his shirt off and tossed it aside. “Now, I can chase you down the hallway…”

“You will do no such thing,” She'd stuck her finger out at him, and he bit the air between them in warning. “I mean it.”

“So do I!” He opened his fly and shucked off his pants. She lost her confidence, along with her breath, as his cock came into view, shifting her entire focus back to what his touch reduced her to. He pawed at the ground, making a snorting sound and she turned to run, a squeal filling the hallway as he caught her from behind and hoisted her up over his shoulder.

“Barbarian!” she accused in a breathless tone that left no doubt in either of their minds as to just how much she was enjoying being carried away.

He tossed her down onto the bed and she turned around, coming up onto her knees as he stood over her, so very proud of himself.

“
My
barbarian,” she clarified in a husky tone. “Mine.”

His eyes flashed with approval. “That's right, Princess. Very, very right.”

 

Read on for an excerpt from
Dawn Ryder
's next
Unbroken Heroes
series

DEEP INTO TROUBLE

Coming March 2017 from St. Martin's Paperback

 

 

Her mind must have snapped.

There really wasn't any other explanation for the fact that Saxon was suddenly there, holding her, smoothing her against him with long strokes of his hands along her back and hips. She'd never even suspected that a man's touch could feel so amazingly good. It was bone deep and a little sound bounced off the walls of the bedroom, one that escaped from her lips a moment before Saxon kissed her.

She'd thought he'd kissed her good before but she'd been mistaken. All of the strength was there in the way he took command of her lips but there was a touch of need too, a coaxing that sent a shaft of heat straight through her. He was waiting for her to meet him, to rise up against him and join him in surrender.

Ginger had no intention of disappointing him or herself. She curled her fingers into the soft jersey of his T-shirt, pulling him toward her even though they were already pressed against each other.

It wasn't close enough, not nearly so. She realized that she hated the fabric of her shirt. Somehow, her skin had become ultra-sensitive, to the point that she felt like the T-shirt was scratchy and needed to go immediately. She pulled it off and he cupped the sides of her face and held her still so that he could reclaim her mouth.

This time, there was no hint of coaxing. There was only determination as he opened her mouth and teased her lower lip with a swipe of his tongue before boldly thrusting it inside to tangle with her own.

She shivered, twisting in a storm of sensations that felt like they were ripping her in too many directions at once. There was white hot need clawing at her insides so intense she couldn't stay still, couldn't focus. There was only the overwhelming multitude of opportunities to touch him and be touched in return. She was frantic to not miss an inch of him. The need to be closer to him was pounding through her, making her dizzy as she rose onto her toes to kiss him back.

“What's good for the gander.…” He lifted his head. “Is good for the goose.…”

She felt the brush of cool air against her skin. Saxon didn't let her suffer it long. He was folding her back into his embrace, pressing his skin to hers and stealing her breath with the contact.

It blew everything else out of her mind, leaving her awash in sensation.

He knew his way around her clothing, unhooking her bra and easing it over her shoulders before it went sailing across the room to hit the floor in a forgotten heap.

“Christ.” He'd cupped her breasts, the word coming out as he kneaded them.

The exclamation bounced around inside her head because all she could do was arch back as he leaned over and fashioned his lips around one of her nipples. She gasped, the sound echoing inside the room, certain she was going to combust.

Stripping became a priority. One she set to with zeal. She was too damned hot to deal with clothing, both hers and his.

“Yes ma'am.” He growled as he followed her lead, their clothing ending up in piles. Saxon turned away from her for a moment, setting their guns on one of the side tables. It afforded her a moment to realize she was bare. She felt exposed and inexperienced.

“Don't.”

She was used to him commanding her but now his voice was a soft enticement instead of a blistering demand. He moved closer, easing back against her as he smoothed his hands along the sides of her face and found the pins she'd stuck into her hair.

His breath teased her temple as her hair became heavy and finally sagged free.

“Don't doubt yourself Gin.…”

He caught her hair, gripping it and sending a little tingle through her at the taste of his strength. His chest was hard and covered in hair that teased her nipples and the delicate skin of her breasts. Her clit was throbbing, her senses had seemed to turn on the moment she met him.

“So … kiss me … because I can't think when you do.”

He chuckled, leaning down until his breath was teasing the wet surface of her lips. “I know the problem myself.”