HeroRising (15 page)

His fingers pulled on her hair and gave her the split second
of warning to pull back and aim the head of his cock at her left nipple. As he
shot jet after jet, she directed the milky fluid across her chest, her smile
growing as he bellowed with his release. Wow. Who knew he was able to produce
that much sound?

As the last little bit of cum dribbled out of his shaft, she
licked the slit clean then made a show out of rubbing the cum into her skin,
making sure to pull and pluck at her nipples while never once dropping eye
contact.

The muscles of his thighs quivered and his knees wavered.
The only bit of strength he displayed was in the intensity of his gaze and the
rough command in his voice as he ordered her to climb onto the bed.

“Spread your legs for me.” He fell to his knees beside the
bed. “It’s my turn to feast.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. She parted her thighs,
showing him how wet and needy she had become while sucking his cock. “I ache,
Bale.”

“I’ll see to your need,
liera.
Always.”

Fire burned in his black eyes as he bent and swiped his
tongue from clit to anus. His tongue dipped into her cunt then followed with
the thick press of his fingers as he wrapped his lips around her clit and
sucked hard.

“Yes,” she shouted and clutched his head to her pussy.
Subtlety was not going to convince Bale that she wanted whatever he dished out.
“That’s so good. More. More.”

Her eyes crossed and her lungs burned as he rocketed her to
the brink of madness. The calluses on his fingers stroked the neck of her womb,
coaxing more of her cream to ease the way for a third digit to fill her to
overflowing.

Just a little more, she panted as if she’d been without
water for days, just a little more. She hunched her hips, desperate for that
tiny bit of pressure against her clit to push her over the edge.

And then he was gone.

“No!” she cried and opened her eyes.

Bale climbed between her spread thighs. A flush of red
painted his cheeks and those dark eyes glowed with a possessive fire. With a
quick thrust, he seated his condom-covered cock into her sheath to the hilt.
Before she could draw a breath, he lunged again, then again.

Her legs fell open and she stretched her arms up over her
head, luxuriating in the slide of his sweat-slick chest across her nipples and
the grind of the base of his shaft against her needy clit.

“Yes, Bale. I want it all.”

At her words, his lips curled and his pace gained speed and
power.

With a shift of his hips, the crown of his cock stroked
along all her nerve endings and lit her on fire. Tears gathered in her eyes,
but it wasn’t from pain. No, the sight of him over her, taking her, was so
beautiful, so bestial, the intensity was blinding.

The punishing pace was exactly what she wanted. The
reverence in his touch and gaze as he caressed her from breast to hip was
unexpected. Not because he had led her to believe that once he loosened his
restraint, he’d become a raving maniac, but because the touch unlocked the gate
between lover and loved one.

When her confidence in the men of the world had been at its
lowest, Bale’s care for her in and out of bed gave her hope that there was
someone out in the world to entrust with more than her body.

She ran her fingernails through the dusting of hair on his
chest and placed her hands against the hard muscles. The pounding behind his
ribs was so fierce, she felt as if she held his heart in her palms.

This was the new dream. She wanted to have his heart. She
wanted to take this man from the shadows and bathe him in light. Dear heavens
above, she wanted him to love her.

The first wave crested and her fingers dug into his chest.
In response, Bale released a stream of curses in a foreign language and
intensified his thrusts, tossing her into the deep end of the abyss.

“Bale,” she cried as shock waves radiated out from her core.

“I feel you, Ari. I feel you. Gods,” he roared and his eyes
rolled back. Inside her rippling sheath his cock jerked in a way she didn’t
think was humanly possible. “That’s it,
liera
. Give me your all.”

Anything he may have said after that was lost to the roll of
thunder in her head. As her pussy suckled on his shaft, his hips undulated,
drawing out the last of their orgasm in a slow yet electrifying descent.

Damn it, she didn’t want this feeling to end. All too soon
she was going to have to open her eyes and face the fact that she was falling
for a man who carried secrets.

She’d have to be an idiot not to recognize the signs. He was
a lone wolf. A wounded warrior. To trust was not in his nature. In fact, she
believed he’d rather cut off his dominant hand than trust another with
anything.

Tonight he may have trusted her with his desire, but that
was sex. Matters of the heart were much more complicated and messy. The lead
weight settling in her gut warned her that to continue the journey from lust
and affection to love would be difficult and paved with many hurdles. What
would it take for Bale to trust her with his heart?

The price, she feared, would be more than she could pay.

* * * * *

“Son of a bitch. You have got to be kidding me.” Marco
wadded the front page of the newspaper into a ball and tossed it into a nearby
waste bin.

Commander Asswipe withdrew another copy of the paper from
behind his back and slapped it on top of his desk. His pudgy fingers framed the
headline,
Who Is the Claymore?
Underneath the big block print was a
grainy photo taken from the video footage from the botched jewelry heist.

A nickname. The press had gone and given the motherfucker a
goddamn nickname. What was next, a Bat-signal? Fuck.

“I thought you had this contained, DeWinter.”

Marco clenched his fists to refrain from slapping the
mustache off his boss’s face. On the other side of the glass wall thirty faces
peeked around cubicles or people stood out in the open to watch their
interaction as if they were the latest YouTube sensation. He was not going to
give them more of a show.

“It is contained,” he gritted out from between clenched
teeth. “At least within my team. Theft also had access to those pictures, remember?
You might want to ask one of them if they’ve had an info leak.”

“I need this guy caught yesterday.” Asante stepped from
behind his desk and came to a stop next to Marco’s chair. “I have the chief and
the mayor breathing fire over this. We need the people of this city to have
faith in the police force. Not some bozo running around like a fucking
superhero. I don’t want copycats coming out of the woodwork.”

“Believe me. I want this case closed more than you do. I’ve
got a good lead and I’d be out there right now checking on it, if you hadn’t
pulled me in here to show me this comic strip. Are we done now?”

“Watch it, DeWinter.” Asante’s eyes narrowed and he pulled
his shoulders back, as if that would make his five-foot-nothing height appear
more intimidating. “You’ve been a thorn in my ass for the last three years. Get
your shit together or I’ll have you rounding up stray poodles with animal
control, you hear me?”

“Yep. So will the union. May I be dismissed? Sir?”

Asante stared him down. The corner of his moustache twitched
as he restrained his sneer. The feeling was entirely mutual. A minute later he
jerked his head toward the door and Marco was out of there as if his ass were
on fire.

What a shitty, shitty morning.

Not only was the press making this Claymore fucker out to be
the city’s savior, just before he was called into that fantastic meeting, one
of his informants had sent word that Smithwick was making a move into human
trafficking. That was where he needed to be, fighting real crime, not chasing after
a hooded freak.

“Hey, DeWinter.” One of the goons from homicide stepped out
from his cubicle and waved around a letter opener. “Do you need a sparring
partner? Looks like you may need lots of practice if you want to compete with a
sword that big.”

“My wife’s a seamstress,” another shouted from across the
room. “I can ask her to make you a costume. How ’bout something with a cape?”

“He needs a name too! How about Captain Underpants?”

“That’s a kid’s book, you idiot.”

“Oh. No wonder it sounded familiar.”

Marco kept his gaze forward while he marched back to his
desk and shoved two sticks of gum into his mouth. At the rate he was going, he
was probably wearing out the ligaments in his jaw.

“Hey, boss.” Coulter appeared from around the partition and
dropped onto an empty seat.

“Thank the fuckin’ Lord. Tell me good news.”

“I checked into Briggs, like you asked.” He leaned forward
to murmur with a knowing grin. “Have you seen the size of her husband’s
family?”

“No. How would I? I’ve never met the man.”

Coulter’s smile widened. “Don’t you know what family she
married in to?”

“No. That’s why I had you dig up dirt. If I did it, she’d
find out and castrate me. Obviously you have something good, otherwise you
wouldn’t be a shit about it now. Spill it.”

“All right. Calm down. Man. Can you, like, start smoking or
drinking or something? You need to lighten up.”

“No.” He double-clicked a ballpoint pen as if he were
flicking open a switchblade.

Coulter eyed the potential weapon and sighed. “Fine. Anyway,
Briggs’ husband Kristos is a river guide and some of his clients have posted
pictures of their excursions with him online. The man is a giant.”

He laid printouts of vacation photos across the desk.

Shit. Marco frowned as he looked at the pictures of groups
of women surrounding a man who stood at least a foot and a half taller with
muscles stacked on muscles. No wonder Briggs fell in love with the guy. He was
a freakin’ Adonis. Even he felt a little turned-on staring at photo after
photo.

“Wait. Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He pulled out two photos and laid
them side by side. In most of the photos Brett’s hunk of a husband sported
thick, luxurious black hair. The bastard. Then all of a sudden he turned into
Fabio.

“He bleached his hair? Why?”

“This one,” Coulter pointed to a dark-haired shot where Mr.
America was fighting rapids and looking like an action hero, “was taken a few
years ago. And this one is more recent.”

His shoulders slumped. “Briggs married a guy who colors his
hair? The world is coming to an end.”

The younger man’s stifled chuckle turned into a snort.
“Moving on. His cousin, who happens to be a cop on Brett’s force, was married a
few months ago to a woman named Fiona Corrione. Sound familiar?”

Fuck yeah. “She’s the woman Smithwick kidnapped. She was
also the Chameleon’s girlfriend.”

“That’s right.” Coulter flashed a dazzling smile and pulled
another sheet of paper from the file folder on his lap. “There was a lovely
announcement about the wedding in the local paper.”

The last time Marco had seen Fiona Corrione she lay pale,
almost lifeless on a hospital bed where the worn, white bed sheets held more
color than her flesh. In the photo Coulter handed him, she was breathtaking
with flowers in her hair and a smile so filled with happiness, he couldn’t keep
his own lips from twitching, ready to share in her joy.

He had always felt horrible that the girl had gotten caught
in the dangerous crosshairs in the war with Smithwick. Questioning her about
the kidnapping had only strengthened his resolve to see the man behind bars. To
see her so happy lightened his heart.

But the sight of her groom brought his frown back. Good
Lord. Another good-looking giant. “I’m starting to hate this family.”

“And there’s a brother.”

“Let me guess. He’s another gigantic son of a bitch too.”

“Yep. And he’s local.”

“Reeeally.” Now they were getting somewhere.

“Lucian Kilsgaard married the owner of Tutala. Ever eaten
there?”

“Of course, because I have that much disposable income.
What’da ya think?”

“She also owns The Cavern.”

His brows rose. “The sex club? No shit.”

Coulter straightened in his seat. “It’s a nightclub that
caters to those with an open mind.”

“Been there, have you?”

“Once. Maybe twice.” He shrugged.

“Ah-hmm. What have I told you about playing where you work?”

“Hey, the city is where it’s all happening. You can’t get
that kind of action out in the sticks.”

Marco shook his head and tapped at the photos. “I’d bet my
left nut the cousin is the Chameleon. And I’m positive Briggs is close to our
guy.”

“You mean the Claymore.”

“God.” He winced. “Not you too.”

“Me? No way. I think it’s a stupid name. Anyone can tell he
carries a long sword.”

“And you know this how?”

“I used to date a girl who studied medieval history.”

“Sounds kinky.” He was learning way too much about his
lieutenant.

“It was, kinda.”

“Right. Now, I don’t think The Hood is Brett’s husband. She
just had a baby, and I don’t think he’d risk pissing off a new mother who can
shoot a target two hundred feet away by leaving her to travel all the way to
the city to bust some heads. My hunch, it’s the brother.”

Coulter rubbed his hands together. “I’m thinking a field
trip is on the horizon.”

“For me.” He stood and gathered a pair of night-vision
goggles and other surveillance supplies from the cabinet behind his desk. “This
will be a solo trip.”

“Ah, come on. Between the two of us, I’ve had the most
experience inside the club. You need me.”

“You can fill me in on the details as I stake out the joint
before they open.”

Coulter trailed behind like a little brother as Marco headed
for the elevator. “You seriously can’t think of leaving me behind.”

“Where did you meet that history chick?”