Renegade (Elite Ops 5) (10 page)

placed them on the china. Moving to the table, he set the steaks in front of her, moved back into the house, and gathered the rest of the meal.

The first beer eased her irritation. The second was enjoyed with the steak as early evening began to dim. Nik lit the citronella candles he had waiting on the far edge of the table, pulled two more beers from the minifridge, and cleared the dishes.

"You should be punished." A little pout crossed her lips as he returned to his seat.

Even the bruise marring her face did nothing to detract from the seductive image.

"Why is that?" He chuckled as he leaned closer. "I didn't tell your father anything."

"No, you told the owner of the bar as he was leaving this morning, who then

called my father in like five seconds flat. You have to be careful around here, Mr. Steele.

There are no secrets."

"I'll remember that." He watched her carefully. "The owner of that bar had some very interesting information, though."

He watched her eyes. In less than a second the guileless amusement turned to

wary suspicion.

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"I bet he did." She tensed, her eyes filling with disappointment.

"You've had a lot of problems like this, haven't you, Mikayla?" Nik asked gently.

Her lips twisted mirthlessly and for a second he saw a flash of grief.

"Yeah, I have." She shrugged, causing the filmy strap of her dress to slip partially over her silken shoulder. "Maddix has the perfect alibi." Her head lifted, her eyes meeting Nik's head-on then. "Are you sure you're on the punching bag's side here?"

There was a wealth of cynicism in that look, and hurt. She believed in what she

had seen. She truly believed Maddix Nelson had committed that murder.

"Let's say I'm in the 'I wasn't there' camp," Nik finally answered her, wondering at that prick of guilt he suddenly felt. "And I tend to lean to the side of the underdog. I have to say you're definitely the underdog here, sweetheart."

"Underdog" was an understatement.

Mikayla stared back at Nik Steele, wondering at the shadow that briefly darkened

the light blue of his eyes, that made them appear not so cold or lacking in emotion.

What did he hide behind those eyes?

"Yes, I'm the underdog," she agreed, shrugging before reaching to her shoulder to readjust the strap of her dress.

He watched her. Those eyes focused on her movement, lightning swift, and with

another flash of that brief, dark emotion. And hunger. Mikayla glimpsed the hunger in his gaze. That flash set a charge within her own nerve endings. It was like flash fire. It tore across her flesh, tightened her nipples, and for a second literally stole her breath.

"I should go." But instead of jumping to her feet as she knew she should, she sat there instead, allowing his gaze to hold her trapped.

"Why?" Eatable lips. The man had completely eatable lips. Just a little bit full, just a little bit sexy, hinting at restraint, and a tempting hunger to lose control.

She could feel it, that knowledge, sense it with the raging feminine need coursing through her body.

"Because you're dangerous," she whispered, feeling her fingers shake as she lifted them from the table. "And I think I've had enough danger in my life lately."

She had to force herself to begin standing.

"Are you sure you want to leave now, Mikayla?"

He stood, leaned closer, and for that moment she was lost.

She was lost in his eyes. Icy, icy blue eyes that at first were as frozen as the

Arctic. Until he came closer. Until she glimpsed for a second that flame of blue in their depths.

Until his lips touched hers.

That kiss.

She had read about
that kiss.
She had seen movies that revolved around
that kiss.

But she had never known it herself before this. This was the first time.

As his lips brushed against hers heat seared her senses and some unknown

narcotic began to infuse her blood. Wild, impossible pleasure began to pound through her body, focusing between her thighs, swelling in her clit, dampening her sex. Sensual, sensuous, the heavy lassitude washed through her, allowing her lips to part, to accept that first brush of his tongue.

She had kissed before. She'd had lots of kisses. She was a virgin; that didn't mean she had never been kissed. It didn't mean she had never been touched or tempted.

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But never had she been tempted like this. Parting her lips further, she allowed her senses, her curiosity, to take control. A kiss like this was once in a lifetime. It was a kiss that personified danger, broken hearts, and star-crossed hungers.

She trembled as he moved around the table, never breaking contact, the kiss

growing only deeper as he took deep, drugging sips of her lips. He rubbed his lips against hers, licked at her tongue with his. Then his lips slanted over hers and he took them as a man intent on seduction.

Mikayla wasn't going to fight it. This was more man than she had ever had so

close. More man than she had ever dared to approach, ever wanted to approach. Mikayla had always wanted nothing more than to live a safe, steady, sane life.

Life hadn't been any of that lately; why not grab some of the pleasure to be had

from it?

She gasped as she felt herself being lifted. The smooth planks of the picnic table were under her thighs as Nik's hand cupped her neck, holding her in place as his kiss deepened.

Summer heat whipped not just around her but also through her. The feel of his

strength, the touch of his lips, were heady. She wanted more.

Mikayla couldn't resist reaching up to his hair, her fingers tugging at the leather strap holding it back. The coarse, cool strands flowed around her fingers, down the sides of his face. The sensual feel added to the pleasure beginning to build in her body.

"Such a brave little beauty," he murmured, his head lifting as her eyes opened.

What had ever made her imagine his eyes were cold? Icy? That wasn't ice. It was

a steel blue flame blistering in its heat.

"Brave? Stupid maybe?" She was breathless, but it was the feel of his hands on her thighs, pushing the hem of her dress higher, that had her losing her breath.

The heated rasp of calloused flesh sent fingers of blistering pleasure racing

through her nerve endings. Her gaze jerked down. She had to watch. Eyes wide, her lips parting, she watched as his large, broad hands slid her dress slowly up her thighs until his thumbs met at the damp center of her silken panties.

He stood between her spread knees, his legs shifting to part her thighs as his

thumbs moved subtly against the center of her panties.

"Nik . . ." She tried to breath. She had to convince herself this was a bad thing.

She had remained a virgin all these years, waiting until it was right.

Was this right? Or was it just a man who knew exactly how to play the human

body?

"Shh. I just want a taste, pretty baby," he crooned. "I've never tasted innocence before."

Her gaze flashed back to his. That pale blue flame licked over her senses as his

head lowered.

His lips stroked along her jawline to her neck. Flash points of pleasure seemed to tear across her nerve endings, streaking to alternate points of her body as she began to ache with sensual heat.

His thumb pressed against her clit as it throbbed for attention. The firm, knowing touch sent spirals of sensation tracking lower, invading the depths of her sex and clenching through her body with near-violent desire.

She had never wanted like she wanted this touch. The heated warmth of his

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fingertips against her inner thighs, his thumb pressing against her clit as his kiss sank inside her.

It was incredible.

He was the ultimate bad boy bringing the ultimate pleasure, and Mikayla, like any

good virgin, was much too susceptible to it.

The exquisite sensation raced through her body like a narcotic she couldn't resist.

It weakened any thought to protest, any need to deny. It sensitized her flesh, heated it, and had her lying back for him as he came over her, his knee pressing against the table, replacing his thumbs as one hand gripped her hip and dragged her closer to the firm pressure of that diabolical knee.

For twenty-six years she had remained a virgin and she was ready to throw it all

away right now, right here.

Her head tipped back as his lips moved from hers, to her jaw, to her neck. The

heated rasp of his unshaven jaw brushed against her neck as his lips waged a path of sensual destruction along the tender flesh of her neck.

It was incredible. It so surpassed pleasure, came so close to orgasmic bliss, she

could barely breathe for it. She couldn't think. She couldn't do anything but
feel.

Oh, God, it felt so good.

His fingers played at the edges of her breasts as his lips moved lower, brushed

against the rounded tops, licked over them. His tongue painted a trail of fire that sent a quicksilver rush of sensation tearing through her womb.

"You have to be the sweetest thing I've tasted in my life," he growled as he pushed the strap of her dress over her shoulder, revealing more of her breast, daring to nudge her dress lower until the tender bud of her nipple was revealed.

She was doing this on his deck? Letting him touch her like this, taste her like this, on his picnic table? And she was loving it.

The side of his finger rasped against her nipple as she arched closer, feeling his tongue lick between the valley of her breasts. She wanted his tongue on her nipple. She wanted to feel it enclosed in the heated cavern of his mouth. She wanted it like she had never wanted another touch.

Was it the danger she had faced? The knowledge that tomorrow had almost not

arrived for her? Was it the danger? Was it simply the man?

The man was incredible.

A low, muted groan, or a growl, vibrated against her breasts as his lips smoothed

over her nipple. Racing pleasure raked over the tender tip, sent an incredible mix of sensations flowing through her.

Her head tipped back, her back arching as she bit her lips to hold back a cry. Her nipple lodged between his lips as his tongue stroked over it. Stroked, like a wet, heated flame.

She was on the verge of begging for more. Begging was clearly becoming an

option when she suddenly stiffened at a sound she couldn't believe she was hearing.

"Mikayla, are you out here?"

Her brother? Scotty?

Her eyes flew open, watching as Nik's head lifted just enough to allow his eyes to glance through the veil of his lashes toward the gate that separated their yards.

"Mikayla, your car's out front. Where are you?"

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Her lips parted in shock. "He called the police the last time I tried to ignore him."

Nik's expression tightened with predatory intent, a glint of danger flickering in his gaze.

What was she allowing herself to get into here? Where had her common sense

gone?

"She's not here, Neil," Scotty called out. "Get Beau; we'll call the sheriff. He might actually help us this time."

Her eyes widened. All her brothers were there?

Oh, Lord.

"Let me go." She wiggled beneath Nik, still feeling too fragile, too feminine, against him. "They really will call the sheriff."

They didn't care how they embarrassed her, but she was lucky. They cared. For all

their overprotectiveness, for all their irritating ways, her brothers loved her.

Nik's gaze slid slowly back to her. She imagined she saw a war waging in his

gaze, whether to release her or to hold her, to ignore her brothers or to tempt her further.

Finally, between one breath and the next he eased up, straightened, then lifted her from the table.

His hand slid the strap of her dress up as the other adjusted the neckline, hiding the rounded flesh of her breast as he stepped back.

"A lucky save," he told her, his lips quirking. "Go do what you have to do, pretty girl. We'll talk later."

Talk? She could just imagine where that conversation would lead.

"I think the best thing I could do is stay away from you," she said softly. "I don't need a broken heart, Nik."

"Do any of us?" He glanced behind her. "There are your brothers."

"Mikayla." Suspicion laced Beau's voice as he opened the gate. "What are you doing here?"

Nik stepped back. "Good night, pretty girl."

He turned and stepped into the house, the doors sliding closed behind him.

Mikayla turned, faced her brothers, and breathed out wearily.

A lucky save? Or simply a reprieve?

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Chapter 5

Maddix Nelson's home was in the most exclusive part of Hagerstown. The rising

mansions and gated estates were lavishly rich and heavily secured.

The Nelson home was on the lower end of lavish, situated in a gated community,

surrounded by other similar homes, just as expensive, just as secured.

As Nik pulled the Hummer into the Nelson driveway behind several other

vehicles, he was clearly able to see why his neighbors had been so certain Maddix had been home the evening Eddie Foreman had died. They were intensely curious. Even now Nik counted no fewer than half a dozen watching as he stepped from the vehicle and made his way along the precisely placed sidewalk that led to the front door.

The door opened as he stepped onto the ornately decorated front porch.

"Nik." Maddix opened the door and stepped inside. "They're all here." "They"

being the two city council members, chief of police, and mayor, as well as Maddix's son, Luke.

Nik followed Maddix through the quiet, understated luxury of the house to the

back of the house where the office was located.

Nik stepped into the room, paying particular attention to the heavy, closed drapes, the dark wood walls.

"Nik, Councilman John Cooker, Mayor Dempsey, Chief Daniel Riley,