Deadly Deception (SCVC Taskforce) (24 page)

Was Kristine giving Adam the news about the baby? In his current state, Ronni wondered if that was wise.

The mantel clock chimed softly. Ten o’clock. Melanie was a dead end. Kristine even less informative. And now Adam was busy. Ronni snuck downstairs, passing the second floor carefully, and went out the back door.

The night was in full swing, insects chirping, owls and bats winging overhead. She made it into the yard when a male voice came from behind her. “Looking for someone?”

Ronni spun around. Jacob stood in the shadows, feet planted, hands on hips. “You startled me.”
Think fast.
“Kristine’s under the weather. I was on my way to the men’s quarters to let Lance know.”

“He’s aware of her condition.”

Condition?
Did Jacob know she was pregnant?

“Right. Okay, then.” Should she go back inside or…? “I think I’ll just take a walk.”

“The farm can be a dangerous place in the dark.”

Threatening? “I’m going to the chapel to pray. No wild animals there.”

She didn’t wait for him to reply, and took off at a fast stride.

“I’ll accompany you,” he said, and fell into step with her.

Great
. Now she had a bodyguard. And not the good kind. “I’d rather be alone.”

“Adam would be angry with me if I let anything happen to you.”

Her skin crawled but she tried to appear pleased. Since she couldn’t shake him, she might as well use the opportunity to feel him out. “So you were in the Army.”

“And you’re an FBI agent.”

Touché. “Living on an organic farm must be quite a change from your military days.”

“I find it peaceful.”

Riiight
. “Do any tours overseas?”

“Several.”

He certainly wasn’t one to volunteer information. “Did the Army teach you those mad computer skills Adam’s always raving about?”

They’d reached the door of the chapel. Jacob held it open for her, switched on a light. “I’ll leave you to pray.”

He closed the door behind him. Ronni peeked out the window and saw him disappear into the darkness. She had the distinct feeling that although she could no longer see him, he was still out there.

Well, wasn’t this a pickle.

She sat in a pew, went through the motions of praying. The twitch between her shoulder blades kicked up. She hated sitting on her hands and doing nothing, but undercover work involved a lot of patience.

After a bit, she walked to the raised stage and stepped up on it. It was solid and sturdy under her feet, her shoes making dull thumps across the wood, unlike the house’s noisy oak floors.

She stood behind the pulpit and looked out at the empty pews. What did it feel like to have so many people love and admire you? To have so many people hang on your every word?

Intoxicating. A type of celebrity status, she guessed, being the most popular person in the room.

All the times she’d sat and listened as a child to scriptures came back to her. Her mother and she, like Kristine and Paige, had often sat in the front pew while Daniel preached. Once again her mother’s ghost rose in her mind.
Oh, mama.
What would you think of the deception I’m pulling on Adam?

She shook off the guilt. Her watch read eleven-thirty. Might as well find out if her guard dog was watching. Leaving the stage, she switched off the light and let herself out.

She pretended to walk back toward the house, keeping her eyes and ears peeled for Jacob. She saw nothing and heard no sounds of people, so she turned on her heel and headed toward the orchard. Almost time for her meeting with Thomas, and hoped that whatever he’d been doing all afternoon, he’d make their rendezvous. She had a lot to tell him.

And she was worried about him.

Several times, she stopped and listened. Looked around. If Jacob was tailing her, he was damn good at being in the wind.

Making her way to the orange tree Adam had stopped under the previous day, she slowed her steps, kept her senses on high alert. These clandestine meetings made her anxious, but they also fired up something she’d buried after her brush with death.

She enjoyed going undercover. Enjoyed the hunt for criminals. Not behind a desk, but in the thick of things. Secret missions, false identities. Thinking on her feet.

Thomas loved it too. She saw it in his eyes, the way he looked at her when they were in front of the others. He got a charge out it. A high.

She wanted to share that high with him. Had tried to the previous night. Wanting him was no longer just about blocking the pain and the guilt, but about sharing the exhilaration of the case.

Partners
. It happened to the best of them sometimes. Getting caught up in the danger and intrigue did a number on their libidos. And afterwards?

Most partnerships died a slow, painful death.

“Hey.”

His voice startled out of her reverie. “Thomas!”

It had only been a few hours, but it felt like days since she’d seen him. She threw her arms around his neck—
completely unprofessional
—and let the relief swamp her. He smelled clean and fresh like he’d just stepped out of a shower. Probably had. His hair was still damp. “Where have you been?”

He held her close, kissed her deep. Then with a finger to her lips, he drew her away from the orchard.

As they walked in silence, he threw looks over his shoulder. Was Jacob following them? The relief she’d felt evaporated. A tense dread took root in her heart.

The honey house came into sight. The door opened with a soft squeak. Thomas closed and locked it behind them.

He lit a beeswax candle, leaned back on the door, and said nothing. His damp hair was ruffled from her attack, his eyes lidded. The gray T-shirt he wore stretched across firm, appetizing muscles. Matching gray sweatpants hung low on his hips. “I take it you missed me.”

Shit
. It had only been
one
day, but she knew the look in his eyes. He wanted her. Bad.

She should be mad at him. For disappearing without a word. Instead, she wanted to grab him and hang on tight. “Don’t ever disappear on me like that again.”

He grinned, reached for a jar of honey on the shelf. Opened the lid and dipped one finger into the soft, creamy contents. Like a peace offering, he held it out to her lips.

Dear God
. She needed to tell him her idea about the guns and teargas being hidden at the salon. That Adam was in some kind of funk. “We need to be careful. Jacob was following me earlier.”

“He’s not out there now. I made sure.”

They were safe. And alone. Very, very alone.

Suddenly nervous, she broke away from his stare. The man was irresistible, his very presence screwing with her logic and reason. Every move he made, every look he sent her way.

Even though she wasn’t making eye contact, she could feel his energy vibrating along her nerve endings. The candle light. The smell of beeswax. The danger lurking right outside the door. It all added up to a heady cocktail leading her right to him.

His finger was warm where it rubbed the honey on her lips. Her gaze rose to his. This moment was truly all you ever had. You couldn’t count on tomorrow. Hadn’t she learned that a long time ago?

That excuse, false or not, gave her courage. Under his sexy stare, her tongue flicked out and lapped at the honey.

His grin turned dirty. She lapped again, licking his finger like an ice cream cone. He dipped it into the honey once more, and this time, she sucked the finger into her mouth and enjoyed the moan that erupted from his throat.

By the light of the candle, he drew her shirt up over her arms, removed her bra. Next, he dipped two fingers into the jar and rubbed the honey over her nipples. Riveted to the floor, she shivered under his ministrations. Candlelight danced in his eyes, on her skin. Thomas bent his head and licked.

His tongue rasped against her sensitive skin and Ronni’s knees buckled, but he caught her and carried her to the wide workbench. There was a slim cot against the far wall where Lance sometimes slept during big harvests, but Thomas set her on the plastic top of the table.

“You’re so beautiful.” He cupped her breasts and suckled the tip of each one.

An orgasm built between her legs and he hadn’t event touched her there yet.
It’s been too long.
Raking her fingers through his hair, she arched into his mouth.
Too much need.

He kissed her chest, her belly, lower, his hot breath warming her right through her jeans.

“Take them off.” He stepped back, grabbed the jar of honey. “I want you naked.”

She obeyed, sliding off the table and losing her jeans and underwear. Standing before him completely vulnerable. Completely aroused.

“Back on the table,” he ground out, his eyes soaking her in. “Spread your legs for me, my sweet barracuda.”

She did as instructed, ignoring the moniker. The cool plastic tabletop against her bottom caused goose bumps to race over her skin. Or maybe it was the look in Thomas’s eyes as he watched her spread her legs for him.

His honey-drenched hand slid between her thighs. One finger, then another glided between her swollen folds, eased out, glided back in deeper. With each pass, his thumb grazed her sensitive nub, making her cry out. She leaned back and grasped the edge of the table, moving against him. After another round, he set down the jar and lowered his mouth to her.

A second cry rose from her throat as the sensation made her writhe and buck under him. There was nothing but Thomas and his mouth, and at that moment, that was all she needed.

He took her to the edge in a heartbeat, but she wanted to give him pleasure too. “I want you inside me,” she moaned between flicks of his tongue. “Inside me. On top of me. All of you. Now.”

He kissed her thighs one at a time, looked up and met her eyes. “Sure about that, partner?”

She was more than sure. “Lose the pants and find out.”

The shirt came off, then the sweats. No underwear.
Interesting
. He was hard and his erection was huge.

“Damn,” Ronni muttered, slipping one of her fingers into the honey and dripping it on his penis.

He sucked air, chuckled at her. “Cocktease.”

“Hey, you started it.” She wriggled her fingers for him to come closer.

A square packet was in his hands. Condom? Where had he gotten that?

He saw the question in her eyes as he tore it open. “Convenience store. Not important.”

“That’s where you went?” He’d left the farm to buy a condom. Such a Boy Scout.

He shrugged and she helped him sheath his long length, gasping when he grabbed her and pushed her legs wider.

He plunged deep, reared back, plunged again. She was slick and sticky from the honey and nearly scooted off the table, but he grabbed her hips with both hands, held her in place. She wrapped her legs around his waist, holding on tight.

This was what she wanted.
Harder, deeper
. With every thrust, Ronni met him with her own ardor.

He took her to the edge again, murmuring words of encouragement in her ear. “Come for me, Ronni.” He nuzzled her neck, tweaked a nipple, slipped a hand between their bodies, his thumb hitting the exact right spot, and…
bam
.

The orgasm rocked her, nearly lifting her off the table. Thomas’s hold tightened, his thrusts teasing her now, making it last. A few more strokes and his body tensed. She held him, gasping, as they both relaxed into the aftermath.

She couldn’t stand and Thomas cleaned them both off, before carrying her to the cot. They squeezed under the covers tighter, still sticky in spots from the honey and the sex.

“I need to tell you about Adam,” she yawned against his chest. “And about the salon.”

“In a minute.” He rubbed her back, brought the cheap blanket up over both of them, holding her tight.

Forgetting the world felt good. Wrapped in Thomas’s arms felt exceptional. She relaxed, the warm buzz of her satiated nerve endings giving her a sense of peace. Bliss.

She fell asleep.

Chapter Twenty-five

Pain heals
. Thomas touched the ragged scar tissue on Ronni’s back. The storm had returned, rain lashing against the single window pane of the honey house, thunder and lightning dancing in the sky.

She murmured in her sleep, shifting away from his touch. The cot was too narrow. The arm he had wrapped around her tugged her back so she didn’t fall.

Of all the mistakes I’ve ever made…

His lips lowered to kiss the scar.
My scar
. If it weren’t for him, the ugly mark wouldn’t blemish her skin.

His stomach tightened. Closing his eyes, he laid his forehead against her back.
Pain heals
, he reminded himself. At least the physical did.

She said she’s over it. You should get over it too.

Live in the moment. Wasn’t that her motto these days?

What bullshit…the great escape, pretending you were over a past grievance when it was eating away at you. He understood escaping reality. His mother had taught him the value in that. His father had taught him to forget his mistakes and move on.