Hell Breaks Loose: A Devil's Rock Novel (18 page)

“You were twenty years old.”

He shook his head as if that was no excuse. “When I showed up, the security guard was dead, shot with one of my guns. Then
the police were there before I could slip away. I was fucked.”

“He set you up,” she breathed, outrage and hurt dripping through her like acid. Rage filled her for this man she didn’t even
know.

He nodded. “Easy as that.” His jaw locked and she knew he was thinking about his time in jail, all the years Sullivan had
taken from him.

“So what are you going to do?”

Reid had escaped. He was out. Grace knew he wanted to see Sullivan, that’s what he had been demanding from the start. A sick
feeling rose up inside her, and now she knew why. She knew what he wanted.

“I’m gonna end him.”

She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. Fear lanced through her. Fear for Reid. “I understand why you feel like
that—”

“Do you, princess?” he snapped.

Stung, she started to pull away, sliding her hand off his chest and lifting up.

He snatched her hand back and put it where it was on his chest, holding it there. “Don’t.”

“You want to do this thing. Fine,” she bit out. “But I don’t have to pretend that I think it’s a good idea.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. You have every right to tell me what you think.” He pressed his hand on the small of her back, urging
her back down against him. His bright gaze locked on her, and her heart squeezed at the need she read there. Need for
her
. “You just can’t understand, Gracie. You can’t.”

She nodded, the lump still there but not nearly as choking. “It’s just . . .” She searched for the words carefully. “It’s
not going to go well for you.”

This news didn’t particularly rock him. He shrugged one shoulder. “This was never going to end well for me. I never planned
on that.” His thumb slid down her cheek. “And I never planned on you.” His look was so intent and devouring as he uttered
this that something inside her let go. Cracked and released. Another bit of her heart broke off and fell into his hands. “We
don’t have a lot of time together, so let’s not spend it talking about this.”

The truth of that went down in a bitter wash. This wasn’t forever. He was destined for prison—or worse. And she had her own
life waiting for her.

Stupidly, the backs of her eyes started to burn, and she buried her face in his chest. He was right. She was going to grab
happiness with both hands. Seize her life. That’s what she had vowed to do when she got out of here. It wasn’t too early to
start living that creed now. Even if this was destined to end, she would revel in the moment.

“Hey.” He brought her face up again.

She blinked, determined that she wasn’t going to cry. His scrutiny only made it worse. She knew he could see the emotion storming
her features.

He shook his head, smiling tenderly as he threaded his fingers through her hair. “God, you’re beautiful.”

A hiccup of unexpected laughter escaped her. Heat crept up her face, and she fought the impulse to refute the compliment.
“Maybe you’re just not that particular,” she teased. “You have been in prison for eleven years.”

“I know beautiful when I see it.” He ran a thumb over her lips. “‘The curves of your lips rewrite history’.”

She smiled against his tracing fingers, her chest swelling in awe, blown away at how this man, who should be coarse and unrefined,
said such beautiful things to her—
about
her. “Where’s that from?”

“Oscar Wilde. Never quite understood it before. Makes sense to me now. These lips . . . they do that for me.
You
do. You make everything somehow different. Even the past.”

Except not different enough.
Not enough to sway him from revenge. She fought back that bitter thought, not wanting to ruin the moment. He made it clear
he would go after Sullivan. She would cling to now. She would have this with him—these precious moments.

Her fingers played against his chest, loving the texture of his skin, so smooth, but also scarred in places. “You read Oscar
Wilde? Is he popular in prison?”

“Smartass.” His chest purred under her fingers and she grinned. “No. I read
Dorian Gray
.”

She sent him a curious look. “In high school?” She didn’t know how else he would know Oscar Wilde unless he’d studied him
there. It wasn’t exactly popular reading.

“In college. I got a degree through correspondence. Eleven years is a long time.” He shrugged. “Figured I might as well do
something with my time.”

Stunned, she gaped at him.

“Try not to look so shocked,” he said dryly.

She shook her head. “What’s your degree in?”

“English. Figured why not? In prison, books were one thing I had access to. I might as well learn more about them.”

She processed this, still marveling at the levels to this man.

“What about you, college girl? What did you study?” His fingers stroked up and down on her hip drowsily.

“I have a degree in astronomy.”

“Wow. Look at the brains on you.”

“Stop.” She shoved at his shoulder. “I wanted to go to grad school but my father put a stop to that. He needed me. In the
beginning, for his first campaign. Then he needed me during his first term. Now he needs me as we roll into his re-election
campaign.”

“And what about you? What do you need?”

No one had ever asked her that before. The fact that he did, this escaped convict, her captor . . . it made her wonder if
everything she had ever thought about the world, about life, was wrong. Because everything she had ever been taught
should
have led her to believe that Reid was a waste of space.

The realization shook her, and for a moment she couldn’t think of a response. Shaking off her stupor, she crawled over him,
loving how small she felt over the great size of him. “Orgasms,” she teased, desperate for levity. “I need those.” She splayed
both hands over his chest and centered herself, thrilled to feel him stirring beneath her.

He smiled up at her, showing off his rare dimples. “Is that so?”

She nodded cheerfully, pushing up and positioning herself so that her sex rested directly over his swelling manhood.

“Well. Coincidentally, I happen to be very good at giving orgasms.” He tucked his hands behind his head as though he had all
the time in the world, and looked up at her with smiling eyes. The sight of him like this did funny things to her heart. He
was smoking hot any day of the week, but like this, smiling, he was devastating.

“Really?” She nodded in mock seriousness, tsking her tongue. “That’s very good to know, considering that I’m in such dire
need.”

“Interesting,” he mused, rocking his hips lightly and bumping her sex. Her lips parted on a small gasp. “Don’t tell me your
fiancé falls short in that arena.”

Her smile slipped. The mention of Charles felt like a splash of cold water.

He watched her, his eyes suddenly intent. Before she knew what was happening, he flipped her on her back, the great wall of
him coming over her. “What’s the matter? Reality isn’t supposed to intrude? You said you’re in dire need of orgasms. I can
only assume you’re not getting them from him.”

Mortified, she glanced away, but he grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his gaze.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Why not?” He angled his head, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he stared at her. “Feeling too guilty?”

“No.” She wiggled under him, trying to get in a more comfortable position. Reid shifted to accommodate her, and the move only
made her aware of his rock-solid erection.
How many times could he be ready in one night?

She exhaled, trying to focus on the conversation and not how easy it would be for him to slip inside her. Even sore from earlier,
her sex burned and throbbed at the sensation of him nestled along her core.

“If you’re not guilty, tell me about him.”

She wasn’t guilty. She would need to have something real with Charles to feel that. She was embarrassed. She had led Reid
to believe she and Charles were a real thing, when in reality they were just friends who mugged for the camera. Not very good
friends either. She didn’t want to confess the truth and let him know just how undesirable she actually was. Reid thought
she was beautiful. She’d rather not let him know precisely how singular he was in that regard.

“Gracie.” Still holding her chin, he trailed a thumb along her bottom lip, reminding her of those lovely words he had said
about her mouth.
The curves of your lips rewrite history.

Further proof that he thought she was desirable. Why dash the delusion?

“Talk to me,” he prodded.

“I don’t feel guilty because Charles and I aren’t . . .” She swallowed. This was harder than she expected. “We’re not real.
Our relationship is a sham. Something cooked up by father to make me look more likable. To earn public favor.” She smiled
weakly. Saying it out loud made her feel all the more lame.

Reid stared down at her with that all-seeing gaze, and for the first time she knew he was seeing it all. Every bit of her
with all her insecurities and flaws.

“You’re saying you just dated this guy because your father wanted you to. For publicity?”

Cue mortification and flaming cheeks. She nodded, adding dumbly, “Everyone loves a romance.”

“So you haven’t slept with him?”

“We’ve kissed. Made it to second base. Tried for third and that was a disaster. No sparks. Pathetic, right?”

“So you’re telling me you’re single.” One corner of his mouth kicked up playfully, and she let loose a short burst of laughter
before she slapped a hand over her mouth, quickly smothering the sound.

“Because right now that makes a difference,” she joked with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. He’d already had his way with
her and she had reveled in it.

He left the bed suddenly, and she thought maybe she had angered him, but then he was back, covering her body with his. She
caught the glint of foil between his teeth, heard the sharp rip and understood.

He reached between them and rolled the condom on, his blazing gaze finding hers. “Fuck, yes, it makes a difference.” He entered
her in one hard thrust. “It means there’s no one between us. No ghost of a boyfriend. Just us. And
sparks
. We have plenty of those.”

She opened her mouth on a sharp cry as he started a fierce tempo. He took hold of her hips and lifted them, angling her so
he was targeting the spot that made her shake and spots dance in front of her eyes. How was it that she could have known this
man for so short a time but he already knew her body and how to play it like an instrument?

His mouth collided with hers, words a harsh mutter, “It means this is mine.”

She wrapped both arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck, afraid he would see her response in her expression.
Because it was impossible.
Complicated and stamped with a fat, irrevocable end date on it. This connection they felt couldn’t go anywhere. They both
admitted that. They both knew it. Still, it didn’t change how she felt.

He is mine, too
.

Dawn tinged the room a purpling blue as he watched Grace sleep. The occasional lightning flashed against the curtain, followed
moments later by a rumble of thunder. The storm hadn’t reached them yet, but it was coming. Rain was rare in this part of
the state, but when it happened, it hit hard.

Her eyelids flickered and he wondered at her dreams. Hopefully, they weren’t anything like his. He’d only dozed, but images
had infiltrated, haunted him in those fleeting moments. Images of Grace running. Gunshots. Blood. One moment he was standing
over the body of the security guard from all those years ago, and then he was rolling him over and he wasn’t the security
guard anymore. He was Grace. Reid woke up shaking. After that, he gave up on sleep.

Watching her curled up on her side, the sheet wrapped around her naked body, he tried to figure out what the hell his next
move should be.

Maybe there could be a way he could trick Sullivan into thinking she was dead. He winced, hating the thought of using her
like that, though.

And what are you doing now if not using her?

The voice whispered insidiously through him. He’d taken her, enjoyed her (several times), and justified it all by telling
himself that she wanted him, too. As if that were enough. As if that made it right. She was the sweetest thing he had ever
touched. Beyond innocent. She was good and pure and deserved better than him. He needed to let her go before her heart became
any more involved than it was. He knew she felt something for him and that it wasn’t ego talking. A girl like Grace didn’t
sleep with a guy without some tender feelings.

He had to let her go. Whatever he had to do to get to Sullivan, he was going to do it without her.

Decision made, he contemplated the series of events likely to follow dropping her at the nearest sheriff’s office. Once that
happened, her safe return to the world wouldn’t remain secret for long. Even if the media didn’t immediately catch wind of
it, with his extensive connections, Sullivan likely would. Reid couldn’t lie and tell the bastard he’d done the dirty deed.
He didn’t even want to think about it.

He brought his hand up in the small space between them, trailing his fingers up and down the ladder of her spine, relishing
the feel of her skin, the bump of every vertebra.

She stirred and he slid down in the bed, lifting the sheet to give him better access to her—and a better view. He wanted to
remember everything about her. Even if Sullivan’s men didn’t gun him down, he was headed right back to prison. He wanted every
moment with her imprinted on his mind, branded there forever so he had something to take out and hold when he was alone in
his cell—the few brief days he had known freedom . . . where he’d lost himself in a woman who made everything else in the
world fade away.

He curled alongside her body, her back to his chest, spooning her into his longer length. Another rumble of thunder rocked
the air in the distance.

“I love rain and thunderstorms,” she whispered into the thick space around them, letting him know she was awake without turning
around to face him.

“They don’t happen that much out here, but when they do, they’re something else. It’s like the wrath of God striking earth.”

Her breath fanned against the pillow, rasping the cotton. He was so attuned to her. Every little sound and movement. He’d
never felt this connection with another person. It was dangerous and scary as hell. Just another reason why he had to let
her go.

“When I was a little girl in my bed at night, I would listen to the rain and thunder . . . watch the lightning flash from
behind my curtains. It made me feel better.”

“Why did you need to feel better?” His fingers brushed the silk of her hair off her nape.

She turned her head to look back at him, a ghost of a smile gracing her lips. “You think I have this perfect life.”

No, he knew she didn’t, and it knifed his heart to know she didn’t. Because she deserved it. He smiled lightly at her. “It
wasn’t all castles, princess?”

Her look got faraway. “There were always castles with plenty of space to get lost in. Trust me, I usually hid. Until my father
sent for me and then I would have to perform.” She winced. “That might not have been so bad if he ever liked anything I did.
If he didn’t critique my every word . . . my everything.”

He slid farther down on the bed, until they were nose-to-nose. “I’m sure the next time you see him there won’t be any critique.
He’s just going to be glad to see you.”

She sighed with deliberate drama. “It would be kind of dick of him to act any other way.”

Reid chuckled. “He won’t be acting.”

Her laughter mingled with his and then faded. “It’s going to be different now, you know.”

He tensed, afraid that she meant because of
him
things were going to be different. He didn’t want to hear that. Didn’t want to know he’d fucked her up and affected her future.

“No. It won’t. You’ll go back to your life. You’ll marry Charlie or whatever-his-name and you’ll forget all about this.”

She sat up abruptly, clutching the sheet over her amazing breasts and looking down at him like he’d just kicked her cat. “You
mean forget about
you
? That’s what you want?” Pain swam in those chocolate eyes. Pain that he put there, and he hated himself for that. “You
want
me to marry Charles?”

No, he didn’t want her to marry anyone. But they had no future. She needed to forget him and move on with her life. She would
marry that idiot and he’d soon realize what he had in her. How could he not?

She dropped onto her back with a huff.

He stared at her, waiting.

She sighed. “I don’t want to marry him. Even without you, I’d reached that conclusion.”

He tried not to smile or look as relieved as he felt. “What are you going to do, then?”

“Leave DC. Take some time for me. Maybe go back to grad school. Have you ever heard of the McDonald Observatory?”

He propped on an elbow and looked down at her. “Yeah. It’s near here. Out by Fort Davis. Never been. My grandfather talked
about taking us there. Never got around to it.”

“I’ve never even been there either. It has some of the largest telescopes in the world. You have the darkest, clearest skies
out here, did you know that? Excellent conditions for stargazing.”

“I didn’t know that,” he replied, watching her, loving how rapt her expression was as she talked about stargazing.

“Can you imagine seeing a comet through one of those scopes? There’s one called Seraphina, its next orbital period lands on
New Year’s eve. Only visible at an observatory, of course.”

“Maybe you can go,” he suggested.

She met his stare, almost challenging. “Maybe I will.”

Silence swelled between them, full of things that needed to be said.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he finally said.

“Not your fault. I’m used to sleeping alone. Another body in bed with me throws me off.”

He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled all her lush curves more firmly against him. Something swelled in his chest.
She wasn’t bound to some other man. Of course, she would be someday. Even if it wasn’t Charlie. A woman like Grace, with all
she had to offer, wouldn’t stay single for long.

She rolled over and brought her smooth palm to his face. She held his cheek. “You’re looking stern again.”

“We have to talk about what’s going to happen.”

Her smile faded. “And what’s that?”

“You need to go home.”

From her expression, he guessed that was not what she expected him to say. “And what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to do what I broke out of prison to do.”

“You’re going to kill Sullivan,” she said flatly, but damn if her eyes weren’t full of disappointment.

He nodded once. “I have to do it.”

“You don’t have to. You’re not a killer, Reid.” She gripped his arm, her fingers pressing deep.

“He took eleven years from me. I don’t think you realize just how bad a man he—”

“And you’re not. Come with me. Let’s go to the police together.” Her hand slid up his arm to squeeze his shoulder. “We can
explain everything to them . . . to my father—”

“Sullivan is powerful. He’s got other powerful people in his pocket. There’s not a chance in hell anyone is going to listen
to me over him.”

She reached between them, her hands cradling his face. “I will. I’ll listen. I’ll make others listen.”

He gripped her hands and pulled them back down from his face, needing to be strong, needing to resist her pleas. “As soon
as I show up with you, my ass is back in jail. And then my chance to get to him is done.”

“But he wants me dead,” she argued. “He won’t see you without proof that I’m dead.”

“The guy isn’t going to let me get close to him. I realize that now. I’m an escaped con. It’s too risky. He’s just getting
me to do his dirty work for him. If I had killed you, he would have probably ratted me out once I did his bidding.”

“So what will you do, then?”

“I’ll think of a plan. One that doesn’t involve you.”

“But if you set me free, he’ll know you didn’t listen to him. He’ll be on the lookout for you.”

“I’ll deal with that. I know where he lives. I’ll—” He stopped short and shook his head. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. It’s
not your problem.”

Her gaze flitted left and right and he knew she was thinking, plotting. “I’ll stay here,” she declared.

He pulled back. “What?”

“Leave me the keys. You got the bike running. Take that. I’ll give you forty-eight hours to get to him and then I’ll drive
myself to the nearest sheriff station. You can tell him that you did it. That you killed me. He won’t expect you to come after
him. He’ll think you’re in his pocket. His guard will be down.”

He opened his mouth to tell her that wouldn’t help him, but his mind was racing. It just might work. He shook his head. No,
he was finished using her. He wouldn’t drag her into his vendetta. “No. The safest place for you is away from here.”

She waved a hand. “No one is going to show up here. I’ll be fine.”

He hesitated, staring at her face, concern for her warring with his desperate need to destroy Sullivan. “Twenty-four hours,”
he finally said.

She smiled and nodded. “All right. I’ll leave here in twenty-four hours.” She slid her arms around his shoulders. “You know
you’re going to have to finally tell me where you’ve been hiding the keys to the van.”

He fought to ignore the knot of uncertainty that he was doing wrong by her and murmured, “You might have to search me thoroughly.”

Her hands dipped between them and closed around his dick, her eyes rounding in wonder. “Again?” she queried.

“One more time,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her mouth. The last time.