Deadly Justice (19 page)

“Keep doing that—what you're doing.” 

His wicked chuckle sent shivers down her spine.  She whimpered when he bent his head and licked a circle around the edge of her areola, avoiding the distended bud.  Her back arched off the chaise, lifting her breast toward his eager mouth, and he finally tongued the tight nub, grasping it between his teeth and tugging. 

A low throaty moan escaped.  His body moved sinuously over hers where it lay sprawled atop the extra-wide chaise.  Muscles rippled beneath her fingertips, all lean lines painted in lights and shadows. 

She swallowed hard.  A look of sheer pleasure crossed Samuel's face as her nails dug into his upper arms, before a wicked grin spread across his lips.

“You've got the most incredible hands.”  She moved in pleasure beneath his touch when his fingers dipped between her thighs.  He leaned forward, nipping at her lips, taking gentle nibbles and bites until she opened for him, allowing him into the warm wet cavern of her mouth. 

“Like that, baby?” 

“Mm-hmm.”  She snuggled further into the chaise with a sigh.  His mouth covered hers again, in a slow and languorous kiss.  The feel of him under her hands, the muscles undulating beneath the skin, was like magic.  She broke the kiss, gasping for breath. 

Samuel's fingertips trailed between her breasts, and she ground her head back against the cushions, her body restless and needing more.   Each nerve ending tingled, awakened by his incredible touch. 

Reaching forward to grasp him, she heard his indrawn breath as he shuddered.  She squeezed gently once, twice, and he grasped her hand, pulling it off him.  Raising it to his lips, he planted a kiss against her palm.

“If you keep touching me, things will be over too soon.  I want to make this good for you.” 

She gave him a sleepy-eyed gaze before running a finger along his length one final time.  She wanted to play, to indulge every whim, every desire, afraid this was a dream and she'd wake up to find this all a fantasy.   

Her arms tightened around him, her lips trailing along his skin.  Arousal flared through her body, turning her need for him from playful to urgent in a heartbeat.  Her fingers twined in his hair and yanked his head down until his lips met hers.  Passion exploded between them.   The desire and need roaring through her refused to be denied one second longer. 

With a sharp tug, she pulled until he landed on the chaise atop her.  Her body heated, blood coursing through her veins with an urgency long denied.  She twisted in his arms, pushing him onto his back and straddling him, never breaking the contact of skin-to-skin.  Muscles shifted beneath his skin, and his hard length pressed between her legs. 

She whimpered.  Right here and right now, she was powerless, in the grip of need beyond anything before.  Nothing mattered but Samuel. 

His dark eyes locked with hers and he reached up and pushed the hair away from her face, to drape over her shoulders.  She rocked her body against him, felt his stomach muscles tighten beneath her hands. 

“Sweetheart,” he groaned, “that feels so…”

“Shut up and kiss me.” 

With a move faster than a striking cobra, he flipped her onto her back once again, his lips never leaving hers.  Her body strained upward as their lips met in a savage battle, a duel of teeth and lips and tongues.  Her breasts rubbed against the soft layer of hair on his chest, and her nipples hardened at the touch against her sensitized skin. 

“This,” he cupped her breasts and flicked his thumbs on her sensitive nipples, “is what I want.”  His tongue skimmed across his lower lip and he pushed her breasts together, licking back and forth, giving equal attention to each of the distended nubs. 

Lightning flared through her body and she trembled uncontrollably.  With an audible moan, she rocked her hips against his solid length and felt him slide between her slick folds.   

Leaning toward the table, she grabbed the condom package he'd placed there earlier, and tore it open, sliding it onto his rock hard erection.  His strong hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into her ass as he eased into her warm core.  It had been so long, not since John's death, since she'd had sex.  Struggling to breathe, she moaned when he slid forward another inch. 

Her entrance burned, adjusting to him.  He was a big man all over, and with each movement her breath caught, until he was finally embedded fully within her body. 

It felt so right.

A moan of pleasure slipped through her lips and she smiled at his answering groan.  Head thrown back, she arched up, muscles clenching around him.  His fingers tightened on her hips, and he bucked.  She felt his entire length fill her with each thrust.  That feeling of fullness, her muscles clasping him, holding him, never felt more right.  She rocked against him, grinding against his pelvis. 

He felt so good.  Heat blossomed inside her, and kept growing and growing.  His fingers squeezed her ass cheeks, and she lifted again, taking him deeper.  She repeated the motion when he groaned.  A small shift of her body and he rubbed against a different spot, sensations nearly overwhelming her.  It was too much, yet not enough. 

Her back bowed and her entire body trembled, stretched to the breaking point.  And then she exploded, screaming his name as the orgasm rocketed through her. 

He was there with her, riding the crest of release, driving into her over and over, until he fell into his own orgasm.  She felt his warmth inside her as she floated on a sea of bliss.  Fingers dug into her and she knew she'd probably wear his marks for days.  Did she care?  Hell no.  She'd wear them with pride, as long as they could do this again.

Finally, she chanced a look at his face.  He was grinning, the glow in his eyes telling her more than words he'd found as much pleasure as she had. 

He lifted off her and lay by her side, wrapping his arms around her.  Curling against his chest, she felt a contentment that had been missing from her life.  Why couldn't it always be like this?  In his arms, she escaped the rest of the world, left it all behind. 

There was still so much unanswered, but those answers would have to wait.  Right now, everything felt perfect.  She only hoped this feeling could last come morning light. 

T
he brand new conference room of the New Orleans office overflowed with his people.  They'd arrived this morning via his private jet, and he'd had rental cars available and waiting at the airport.  He wanted to make the transition as smooth as possible, because he would be asking a lot of his team. 

The only one missing was Jean-Luc Boudreau, and he'd show up later.  He'd called, stating he needed to meet up with his father, Gator Boudreau, a man well known for his hunting skills throughout the surrounding parishes.  That man had more contacts in New Orleans and the outlying areas than a dog had fleas. 

The cacophony of voices held a kind of music all its own.  These were his men.  His teammates.  His friends, though sometimes he wondered how he'd taken up with such a ragtag bunch of misfits. 

Now he planned to present them with a choice.  See how many of them would willingly relocate to New Orleans, or whether they'd elect to stay in Dallas at what would become their secondary hub office.  Once he'd made the decision to move back to New Orleans, the idea had snowballed, because it felt right.  He was coming home.

“Okay, everybody, pipe down.” 

The voices quieted and all heads turned toward him.   They thought they were here working on their primary case—the ongoing search for the elusive Richard Webster.  Which was partly true. 

“Carlisle, update us please.”

His resident tech guru sat up straighter, and he flicked the hair out of his eyes.  His fingertips flew across his laptop keyboard.  “Well, you already know the photo's location is confirmed as Canal Street.  I was able to narrow it down to the exact building, which currently houses a club known as Little Havana Harbor.  It's an exclusive, high-end tobacconist and cigar bar.”

Carpenter straightened in his chair, a speculative gleam in his eyes.  “That's a change.  Webster steered clear of all things that would, and I quote, pollute his body.  Bastard didn't mind trafficking in the nastiest crap out there, but never personally indulged.  Maybe he was meeting somebody.” 

Carlisle shrugged before continuing.  “Little Havana Harbor has a spotless reputation.  Joaquin Santiago opened the place in two thousand and eight, after moving to New Orleans from South Florida.  He's made a killing, since nonsmoking in public places changed all the rules.  People still want to smoke and he carries all the high end, expensive stuff.  Place shuns all the new vapor stuff though.” 

“Any further sightings of Webster?”  He steepled his fingers, elbows resting on the edge of the table.  Outwardly, he maintained his calm demeanor, but inside he was a raging inferno of swirling emotions.  Not the least of which was the feisty woman he'd left upstairs in his penthouse.  It had been pure hell climbing out of their shared bed, leaving her all warm and snuggled beneath his covers, while he came down to meet with his crew. 

“Nothing.  Citywide CCTV cameras capture everybody coming and going.  Facial recognition program's running twenty-four/seven from the feeds, but he's pretty much the invisible man.”  Finished with giving his report, Carlisle reached across the table and snatched up one of the beignets Carpenter had delivered from Café du Monde an hour before the team arrived.  They tasted good, but he'd rather have Ms. Willie's cooking any day.  But she needed time to get settled into her new apartment.  It didn't seem fair to ask her to make pastries for his motley crew when she'd barely been in New Orleans a scant couple of hours.  He wanted her comfortable, but more importantly, safe.  Being ensconced here would have her surrounded by his top guys pretty much twenty-four/seven. 

Nate leaned forward and reached for a pastry, and Gunner snatched it before he made contact. 

“Hey.”

“You snooze, you lose, bro.”  Powdered sugar fluttered across his dark T-shirt as he popped it into his mouth. 

“You just wait.  I'm gonna tell Ms. Willie, and she'll make me something special, and I won't share with any of you heathens.”  Nate slumped back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest like a petulant five-year-old, and Carpenter cupped his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. 

“I've got a couple of leads for Carlisle to follow, but in the meantime I need to talk to everyone.  There are some major changes taking place within Carpenter Security.” 

Spines straightened in chairs, and every eye in the room stared his way.  Even Carlisle stopped tapping at his keyboard, attention focused like a laser. 

Well, that certainly got everybody's attention
. 

“Let me cut right to the chase.  I'm moving the company headquarters here.  To New Orleans.”

Dead silence met his words.  Surprise spread across a couple of faces, but Gunner nodded as though he'd been expecting it.  Carlisle gave a noncommittal grunt, and got right back onto his laptop. 

Nate raised his hand, like a schoolboy trying to get the teacher's attention.  “Got a question, boss.” 

“Shoot.”

“Ms. Willie moving here with ya?”  He leaned back against his chair, arms folded across his chest again, his lips curved in a cocky grin. 

Really?  That's the only question—is my housekeeper moving with me?

“Yes.”

Nate stared him in the eye for a good thirty seconds.  “Okay.  I'm in.” 

Just like that?  No questions, no hesitation—just 'I'm in'?

“No questions?”

Jean-Luc sauntered through the door and took in the solemn atmosphere.  He quirked a brow at Carpenter.

“You told 'em yet?”

Other than Ms. Willie and Andrea, Jean-Luc was the only one privy to the details of the company's relocation.  He'd already picked out his apartment upstairs, though Carpenter doubted he'd live there half the time.  He'd lay odds Jean-Luc would be out in the swamps at the family's place, fishing and spending time with his three brothers and their baby sister.  Though she wasn't really a baby any more, was she?  Last he'd heard, she'd graduated from college. 

“What's the big deal?  Companies relocate all the time.  Unless you're letting us go after this job—is that the plan?”  Trust Gunner to come up with the worst case scenario.  What did he think, that they'd been together for all these years, and he was going to kick them to the curb? 

“So, you didn't tell them about the perks—the relocation bonus and…”

“Perks?  Bonus?” 

Nate scowled.  “Hell, I already told him I was in before anything was mentioned about a bonus.  Can I change my mind and hold out for more money?”  Trust Nate to head straight for the bottom line.  The man loved his creature comforts, and they didn't come cheap.  Though how he had two pennies to rub together with all the cash he squandered on women Carpenter couldn't figure out.

He motioned for Jean-Luc to grab a seat, while he stood and walked over to lounge by the open doorway.  Once he mentioned this particular perk, he wanted to be out of the way of the stampede to the next two floors. 

“As Jean-Luc mentioned, those members of the team willing to move here will receive a relocation bonus, to help defray the costs of moving to New Orleans.  In addition, if you decide to stay here, there are apartments in this building, provided for employees rent free.  The next two floors have been…”

Before he could finish his sentence, there were whoops and hollers from his men, and a mass exodus toward the door, and he stepped out of the way, grinning.  He looked over at Jean-Luc.  “That went well.” 

“Don't they need keys?” 

“I left the doors unlocked.  Once they've decided which units will suit each teammate, they'll be back down.” 

He could hear feet stomping up the stairs.  His guys weren't the patient type to wait for an elevator.  Two flights of stairs would be child's play for them.  They stayed in shape—their jobs demanded it.  A swell of pride centered in his chest.  He'd assembled a damned fine team and they'd become a family.  He'd hate it if any of them decided to stay in Dallas.  Sure, he'd understand, but he wanted them all here.