Hot Pursuit (17 page)

He knew what she'd been about to say. She might not be ready to say it, but joy spread through him, rain on a barren, parched desert. No one had ever told him he was special. Except his parents long ago.

The long, lonely years, it seemed, were coming to an end. She'd brought him happiness, and he wanted to give in return. Something to express the wonder of having his eyes opened, a blind man able to see at last. She was a miracle.

He retrieved his shirt, spread it on the ground behind her with great care. Taking her chin, he kissed her. Reveled in the dark flavor of himself on her lips. Him and no one else, if he had his way. Ever. The knowledge aroused him all over again, his softened cock waking anew.

He laid Cara back gently on his shirt, following her down. Cradling her, he pressed butterfly kisses to her lips, nose, chin, forehead. She rested a hand on top of his head, running his hair through her fingers, and he loved the sensation.

Dipping lower, he turned his attention to her breasts. Capturing one tight pebble in his teeth, he groaned, sucking it. Feasting like the starving man he was. She arched into him, gripping his head, gasping encouragement. He swirled one peak, then the other, as one hand skimmed down her flat belly.

His fingers found the springy nest of curls and lower still, to her wet sex. Her thighs parted for him, hips urging his touch. He stroked the hot, sensitive nub, the pouting lips, slick and ready for him. Suckled her breasts, teased her clit until she writhed, unable to take any more.

“Taylor, please,” she moaned, yanking his hair.

He lifted his head, regret spearing his gut. “I have protection, but it's at the house.”

“I'm on the pill and I'm healthy.”

Her words sent a thrill through him. “I'm healthy, too. Cara, baby, are you sure?”

“Yes! Now, please . . .”

He needed no further encouragement. Positioning his body over hers, he guided the tip of his cock to her moist opening. Worked it in slow, making certain he wouldn't hurt her.

And in one long, delicious stroke, pushed deep. Her tight sheath gripped his cock with silken heat. She clutched his shoulders as he began to pump. In as far as possible, his balls rubbing against her bottom. Relishing the feeling of being buried inside her. Then out, inch by wicked inch. Skin deep, inside her again. Wanting to crawl in and never come out. Fusing their souls.

Never, ever anything like this. The power of their connection shook him. Humbled him. She was a gift, a treasure. He held her close, making sweet love to her under the waning light. That's what she deserved, and he gave all he had to give.

Her nails dug into his back. “Oh yes. Yes. Faster!”

The feral male animal in him came undone.
Mine.
Clutching her tight, thrusting hard, their bodies slapping together. Hot, blazing, burning him up. Higher and higher.
Gonna explode—

“Come with me, baby,” he demanded.

Hips bucking, she cried out. Her release shattered him. Seated deep, he let her carry him over the edge into oblivion. Her orgasm milked his cock as he spurted into her, harder than before. More than he'd thought possible.

Raising his head, he looked into her face and swept a damp tendril of hair from her eyes. She gazed at him, smiling dreamily, a woman well satisfied. A new emotion clogged his throat. One he wasn't brave enough to name. Yet.

She kissed his shoulder. “Wow. You're an awesome lover, handsome. I saw stars.”

Damned if he wasn't smiling back. Hell, he'd have to be dead not to feel a bit of smug male satisfaction. Crazy how a guy's fortunes could turn on a dime.

“Naw. I was inspired by a gorgeous lady—that's all.”

“Sweet talker.” She reached up, played with his hair.

In spite of himself, he laughed. “Jesus, I don't deserve you.”

“Kayne?”

“Hmm?”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

He sank willingly into her arms once more, set about making up for all those lost, lonely years. As he made love to her again, a realization warmed him.

A man didn't have to die to touch heaven, after all.

•   •   •

The weekend was bright and clear.

Cara had been on alert for the rest of the week after the terrifying break-in at Taylor's house. More and more, they didn't want to be apart. They also didn't want their nemesis to be able to pinpoint a set schedule. So they alternated between staying at his house or hers, in no set pattern. They were at her house a bit more, only because Blake grumbled about the precautions and the fact that they didn't want him staying alone.

However, the complaints had lessened when Taylor explained how Blake could be used as leverage with Taylor or Cara. He could be kidnapped or worse. That truthful information went a long way toward changing his sour disposition.

Another thing that made Blake happy was that when Taylor went over to Chris's house to tinker with the old Chevelle, Taylor invited him to tag along. Blake was thrilled. He'd been buzzing like a fly around Taylor, Shane, Drew, and Chris all morning, asking a zillion questions about every single feature of Chevelles, and extolling the various virtues of every muscle car ever produced.

Rolling their eyes, Cara and Daisy had unanimously declared it must be a guy thing, and retreated to the house. The two of them were there now, sipping iced tea and getting to know each other better.

Cara learned that Daisy, Taylor, Chris, and Shane had been instrumental in solving the mysterious death of Drew's famous father, a veteran NFL player. Drew, being a scared sixteen-year-old, had been keeping some heart-wrenching and dangerous secrets in that regard, and the fallout had nearly destroyed their family before it had a chance to form. The boy was recovering now, and though he loved his dad, he'd really bonded with Daisy.

“I'm so happy for you guys,” Cara said with a smile. “It goes to show that family truly means the people who love and support you.”

“You sound like you know a bit about that.”

“My family sucked, to be honest. My mother is still alive, but she's an addict. A rich one who wears all the right clothes and has cool friends, but is still an addict.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” The other woman frowned.

“Don't be. It is what it is.”

“You seem to be forming a family yourself,” Daisy observed. “You're rather fond of Blake and Taylor.”

“I am,” she admitted. “I'm more than
fond
of Taylor.”

“Falling?”

“Yeah.”

“He's an easy man to love, or so I'd think if I didn't have Shane.”

“He is. He's awesome, and I feel like a teenager every time I think about him.”

“I'm glad. Taylor needed someone to love, and I'm happy it's you.”

“That's so nice of you to say.” The kind words had her tearing up some. “If you knew our history, you might not feel I was right for him.”

“I already know,” the other woman admitted. “I hope you don't mind that Shane filled me in.”

“A few weeks ago, I might have minded. Now, not so much. He and I have made our peace with each other as far as my sister's death.”

“That's good. Holding on to pain will only make you more unhappy.” Daisy smiled. “Want to see what the guys are up to out there?”

“Sure.”

Strolling outside, they joined the men and observed one of the strange male-bonding rituals involving messing with cars. Cara thought cars were neat, but couldn't quite get as excited as the guys.

“So, what are you gonna do with her now that we've just about got her running again?” Chris asked, patting the hood.

“I don't know. I've had this one for a long time and she's special to me, but I don't need two cars. Especially since I've got the Challenger. It's newer.”

“But the Chevelle is a classic,” Blake insisted. “You can sell it!'

“I never said anything about selling it, but that's an idea. The upkeep on two muscle cars, the insurance, the registrations, inspections, all that shit. Too much.”

“Then sell the Challenger. It's new, not a classic.”

“I like driving it, though. I don't want to sell it. I sure wish there was another solution.” At that, the three adult men exchanged knowing looks. They'd obviously planned something, but Cara didn't know what. A glance at Daisy, who shrugged, confirmed she didn't, either.

“I guess there's only one thing to do,” Taylor said, pulling the key ring from his pocket. “I'll have to let someone use it so it doesn't get rusty sitting in my driveway.”

“What?” Blake looked horrified. “You're going to let someone else use it? You can't just hand over the keys to a classic car to some— some stranger!”

“Who said it would be a stranger?”

Taylor was grinning at the kid. And he still wasn't getting it. “Dude, take the keys.”

“Huh? Why?” The boy appeared totally confused.

“Because you're the one I want to drive my car.”

Blake was dumbfounded. “But—but—”

“Holy shit!” Drew exclaimed.

“You've got two jobs now, and you need transportation. I've got an old car that's been rebuilt and is not going to do well if it's allowed to gather dust. It's a win-win situation for everybody.”

“I . . . I don't know what to say.” The boy's eyes filled with tears.

“Just say you'll car-sit for me. And when you're on your feet, if you want to keep the car, we'll work out something.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes, I mean every word.”

Blake closed the distance and hugged Taylor hard. “Thank you. I'll never forget this.”

“I'm glad I was able to do it. I almost sold the thing for scrap when it took a dunk in the river. Now I'm glad I didn't.”

“Me, too!” Taylor glanced at Drew, practically vibrating. “Want to go for ride? If it's okay with everyone else?”

“Fine with me. The car should be good to go. I guess we'll test the theory.”

The boys climbed in and Blake fired up the car, which emitted a throaty purr. After getting a stern warning from all three men to drive safely, he waved and pulled out onto the street.

“That was a damned decent thing you just did, partner,” Shane said. “Who knew you had it in you?”

Taylor knew he was teasing but punched him, anyway, and everyone laughed. It was just about as perfect a day as they'd had.

It was to be the last one for a long while.

•   •   •

Taylor received a text from Chris shortly after he arrived at the station on Monday.
Got info 4 u. C me.

Curious, he wandered to Chris's desk and found the man pouring over lines and lines of print with names and numbers. “Are those what I think?”

Chris looked up, blinking at Taylor for a few seconds as though he couldn't see very well. Then it passed and the man shrugged. “If you mean Max Griffin's phone records, then yes.”

“And are any of them ringing more bells than the other?”

“You could say that.” He looked up at Taylor. “Most of the calls, including the day he died, were between Griffin and a man named Dmitri Constantine.”

Taylor's heart jolted and he stared at Chris. “I know that name. Constantine was . . .” he broke off. How much to tell Chris? As it turned out, not much.

“Constantine was the name of the man who was with you in that house in Los Angeles. He was there the day Connor Wright went crazy and he was killed.” He gave Shane and apologetic look. “I do my homework.”

“How could Griffin talk to a dead man?”

“He can't. Damon Constantine was the man in the house with you. He was Dmitri's brother.”

“Meaning, if this whole thing with the hit man ties back to that day, then—”

“Then you could have a revenge plot in motion,” Shane put in, joining them.

“But why wait four years to make me pay for getting his brother killed?”

Shane tapped another paper and held it up. “He recently got out of prison. He went in right after the slaughter because of some money-laundering shit against him. White-collar stuff.”

“All right. Why do I get the feeling there's more?”

“Because there is. Three guesses who worked for Dmitri as his PA.”

Taylor stared at them, his blood beginning to pump. This could be the missing link. The tie they needed to wrap this up in a neat bow. “Jennifer Wright.”

“Exactly,” Chris said. “Now, it could be nothing. It could be that the Constantines and Griffin knew each other through Jennifer Wright, and nothing more than that. Maybe Max and Dmitri kept in touch, nothing more sinister than that.”

“And donkeys fly,” Taylor said. “If they're such good acquaintances and all, how come Dmitri wasn't down here in our faces, demanding we find Max's killer?”

“Good point.”

“So, the question is, when do I leave for a little side trip to L.A.?”

“As fast as you can book it—two seats, because I'm going with you,” Shane said.

“I can handle this.”

“But you're not going to alone, period. Not with some psycho Terminator asshole after you. Forget it.”

Taylor took off early to pack, and Cara was there when he got home. All the way to his house, he'd been in a dilemma. He couldn't leave her and Blake unprotected.

“What's going on?” she asked, following him into the bedroom and watching as he got out a small gym bag.

“Your sister worked for Dmitri Constantine. Did you know this?”

“Of course I did. I could've told you who she worked for, but it never came up.”

“This is important. Jenny worked for Dmitri. Max knew all of you. Phone calls between Dmitri and Max continued up until Max's death.”

“That doesn't mean anything by itself. But on the whole, it's pretty curious. I can't imagine what they'd have to discuss.”