Riley (The Kendall Family #3) (3 page)

“Enjoy your nap?” he asked.

“What are you going to do with me?”

“What? No foreplay?”

“I’m not in the mood.” Contrary to her words, she felt her body react to him a little despite the situation. Even because of it. Such vulnerability mostly caused fear and worry, but some part of her was excited even if she didn’t want to admit it. Wondering at herself, she searched his face with her eyes, trying to read him. What was it about Riley Kendall that caused an unthinkable reaction? Surely she didn’t
trust
him.

“That’s what foreplay’s for,” Riley said.

“Is that what you call this?”

“No. I call this a good time.”

“For who? It’s supposed to be a good time for both.”

“Oh, you’ll have a good time. Just not as much as me.”

“Is that what you think?”

“Are we still talking about your interrogation? Because it doesn’t sound like it.”

Riley’s amused eyes finally swept over her, lingering on her tits, pussy, and then eyes, a spark of excitement appearing within his own. So he was interested after all. She felt relieved and annoyed. Without meaning to, she tensed but saw his appreciation deepen at the way her muscles made her flesh ripple. Relaxing took an effort, especially when she felt her nipples begin to harden involuntarily. The resistance apparently made her more attractive, but relaxing as if submitting aroused her. She felt conflicted.

Seeing him ogling her, she replied, “Is this how you treat all your conquests? Tie them up and rape them?”

“Honey, if I was that kind of man, I would’ve had you already.”

Eyeing his hard-on, she said, “Looks like you were just getting ready.”

“I was ready the moment I laid eyes on you.”

She blushed and cursed herself for it. She was no stranger to men finding her attractive, but they seldom looked as good as him, and certainly no such man had put her in this position. Getting a quick read on people was part of her livelihood. It had kept her alive more than once, but it surprised her to sense he wasn’t the raping type. If anything, he seemed somehow honorable.

And that intrigued her. Could he really keep his hands—and anything else—to himself with her so helpless and him clearly turned on? Her eyes dipped to his muscled chest and powerful arms, wondering what they’d feel like crushing her to him. Fresh arousal surged from her loins up her belly and she let out a breath to calm herself.

“So tell me,” he began, leaning against a dresser, muscles flexing as he folded his arms, “why did you try to kill me?”

“I’m sure you’ve got it coming for something.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe crimes against women.”

“The only crime I’ll commit against you will be not fucking your brains out.”

She snorted but sensed he was kidding. “As if. Does that cockiness ever work?”

“Always. So you’re saying you don’t care what I’ve supposedly done?”

“Not in the least.”

“Then you have no honor.”

She frowned. “You’re judging me? You’re a sniper, like me.”

“I don’t kill for money.”

“What makes you think I do?”

“A little bird told me.”

She didn’t know what he meant. Her eyes noted her smartphone in his hand and she suddenly realized he might’ve gotten into it. He seemed to know something, but she didn’t have to admit anything. Yet. “Did you ever know why you were ordered to kill someone? You’re a Marine. You just follow orders.”

He approached her. “I want to know who ordered the hit.”

“I’m sure you do. I neither know nor care who wants you dead. You’re just a job, buddy. Don’t take it personally.”

“Killing is always personal, or are you that coldblooded?”

“You know what I mean. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

He sighed and said, “Let’s try something simpler. Why did you drop a pot on my head earlier?”

Her eyebrows shot up. No harm in telling him that. “Hitting the ground would make a different sound from hitting your head.”

“Rather than stick your head out and get shot,” he surmised. When she didn’t say anything, he asked, “I don’t suppose you know how to cook with pots, too, or would that be too much to ask?”

“Why, you want me to make you dinner or something? Pig. Cook your own damn food. I’m nobody’s servant.”

He smiled. “Oh, I don’t know about that. You sound like you get paid to serve somebody, and you’ve served me pretty well so far.”

“How’s that?”

He lifted her smartphone. “I used your thumb print to unlock this. Learned all sorts of things.”

Jordan clenched her jaw. Seeing his amusement, she felt heat in her cheeks and chest, where his eyes strayed before returning to hers. Not a reaction could be hidden from him if she didn’t try harder. Knowing what was on the phone and what he might’ve learned, she sensed that if she played dumb when he revealed knowledge, that would make her seem weak.

“Like what?” she asked.

“You’re not French.”

That startled her, which he saw, judging by the smirk. She had to do a better job of hiding things. “Why would I be French? And what makes you think I’m not?”

“You flew in on Air France from Paris but you don’t have a French accent. Sound American, actually.”

“Congratulations, Sherlock.”

Smirking, he asked, “How was the sushi?” She blinked in confusion. “The Hilton is in their delivery range, isn’t it?”

Realization dawned and she felt flustered that his approach was forcing her to reveal reactions if not confirmation of information he already knew or guessed. If he learned enough about how she responded to things, he’d be able to read her when she didn’t want that. The cleverness of the nudity tactic, and his interrogation, impressed and irritated her. A glare crept into her eyes.

“So you’ve been in my bank accounts,” she surmised, mentally listing what he might’ve seen.

“A half million is all I’m worth dead?” Riley asked.

“What makes you think that was for you? You’re not worth half that from what I see.”

“And you’re worth every penny from what I see.”

He slowly looked over her body again, but she knew he was doing it to cause a reaction. Mostly. She felt certain that his eyes noted her rising nipples. Fighting her arousal only worsened it; her eyes darted to the noticeably bigger bulge in his jeans. Fortunately, his focus lay elsewhere and he didn’t notice.

Maybe I can turn the tables
, she wondered.
Seeing me getting turned on, however embarrassing that might be, might get his guard down, make him easier to manipulate. Then again, maybe he’ll be unable to restrain himself anymore and he’ll fuck my Goddamn brains out
.

She hadn’t meant to think the vulgar language. Was unconscious desire behind it? She wasn’t sure what she wanted. Well, that was only sort of true. Rape certainly wasn’t a desire, but she reluctantly admitted wanting to fool around with him. Not being trussed like a pig would’ve normally been a preference, but something about him suggested he wouldn’t without her consent, so despite having not entered into the situation willingly, part of her didn’t find it entirely objectionable. Pride and normal self-preservation instincts to be free warred with unconscious desire to give consent. A surge of desire swept over her and she decided to play with fire, using the only weapon she had—raw sexuality.

She flexed her muscles as if testing the bonds once more, pulling in her tummy and arching her back in subtle ways, as if not doing it on purpose. Riley’s eyes bulged and he clenched both fists, naked desire on his face until he cleared the look with visible effort. She suppressed a smile.

The Marine sat on the bed, leaning over so that one hand went straight for a breast. Fear shot through her, that she’d misjudged him. She tensed in anticipation only to have his hand go right past and onto the bed, causing both relief and frustration. His warm, hairy forearm grazed her flesh, sending sensation up to her nipple. Maybe he was better at this torture thing than she’d imagined. Jordan tried to ignore the minty scent of cologne on him and the riveting blue eyes that sparkled with mischief, danger, and lust.

Riley whispered, “The half mil was a down payment, wasn’t it?”

This time she hid the truth better. “What if it was?”

“What happens now that you failed?”

“I wouldn’t get the other half, assuming it was for you.”

“Do you have to return the down payment, or does that mean someone comes after you next?”

“Why? Would you protect me?”

He grinned. “I wouldn’t want another man to have you instead.”

“And are you going to have me?” Knowing the risk, she pressed her breast into his forearm, adopting her best “come hither” look. As faked as the motion was, where the mind goes, the body will follow, and her pussy spasmed in truth of the trite saying, the dew of arousal gathering on her bared folds. She could smell it, and on seeing Riley breathe in deeply through his nose, she knew he did, too. Her lips parted of their own volition. There was no pretending anymore. The feeling of having been caught being horny ratcheted up her physical reactions even as embarrassment colored her cheeks.

With eyes smoldering, he remarked, “You are more dangerous nude and seemingly helpless than you ever were dressed with a gun in hand.”

She smiled slowly, looking him in the eyes as she earnestly replied, “Thank you, Riley.”

“Oh, you’re very welcome, Jordan.”

Her eyes widened that he knew her name and his grin broadened at the sight. Sudden fury ripped through her as she flushed crimson.

“You bastard,” she snarled.

He shushed her. “Why so mad?”

“Oh, don’t play the fool with me! You flirted just to surprise me with the truth that you know my name.”

“Believe me, my flirting is as sincere as it gets.”

She blushed again because she knew deep down that it was true and suddenly hated him for it. Could she hide nothing from Riley Kendall?

“That’s the last you’ll get out of me,” she snapped.

“I intend to get every last bit of pleasure from our interactions, Jordan. And you will give me what I want willingly, sooner or later.”

“You pig!” She spat at him point blank and felt satisfied with the direct hit. He leaned forward and used her hair to wipe the spit off his cheek as she growled in frustration. One thing was apparent—Riley was a master of turning the tables. “How did you learn my name?”

He straightened up, seeming like he was having a grand old time. “The guy listed as T on your messenger app called you that. He and I were texting a minute ago.”

This time she stiffened and stopped breathing, the whites around her eyes showing.
Oh shit. What did he learn? What did he
say?

Riley asked, “Would you like to hear about the conversation I had with him?”

“Very much,” she said, voice strained.

“Then tell me what I want to know. Who wants me dead?”

She closed her eyes and let out a long breath through her nose, sinking into the bed as she turned her face away. Christ, this could be really bad. She had to know what they’d discussed but there was no way she could tell Riley what he wanted to know.

“You mean besides me?” she asked faintly.

He took her chin in one hand and pulled her face back to him. Jordan opened her eyes to see his gaze like steel, all playfulness gone. “No more games. Who is trying to kill me?”

“Go to hell.”

Riley rose and went to the dresser where his gun lay beside hers. He picked it up and turned back with a menacing look that vanished on hearing a door bang open downstairs.

“Riley?” a man’s deep voice called. “It’s Quinn and Kris. Where are you?”

Chapter 4 – The Search

“Don’t go anywhere,” Riley commanded Jordan, smirking. She couldn’t get out of the restraints. He’d secured enough prisoners to know how to do it right—Marines were trained to do that—but overconfidence was how people screwed up. He wasn’t going far anyway and had no intention of leaving her alone. After one last admiring gaze, he threw the covers over her, leaving just her head and both hands and feet sticking out. Then he took the guns and stepped into the hall toward the stairs.

He called down, “Up here. Bring my shirt.”

Footsteps neared the stairs from below before his burly mountain of an older brother, Quinn, appeared, an inquisitive look creasing his brow. At six foot four, Quinn cut an imposing figure and made Kris, mounting the stairs behind him, all but invisible as she followed, Coby beside her. Quinn’s shaggy brown hair added to the impression he was a bear, a neatly trimmed beard framing his strong jaw and easy smile. “What happened to the picture of Mom?” he asked.

“Bullet.”

Quinn cocked an eyebrow. “Gun go off by accident?”

“Not exactly.” Riley appreciated the silence that followed this. Quinn had learned to wait until Riley wanted to say more. The Marine wasn’t one to answer questions he didn’t feel like answering. Prying got nowhere and his siblings knew not to bug him.

The big guy and Kris stopped atop the stairs. Kris had her long, black hair in a ponytail, and wore brown riding boots, breeches, and a tight, green T-shirt. Growing up dealing with the two brothers now beside her had given her confidence, a sharp gaze, and a take-no-bullshit demeanor that intimidated many men.

“What’s going on?” she asked, handing Riley his black T-shirt, which had a bunch of white skulls on it.

Riley moved to the partially closed bedroom door and opened it to check on Jordan, who turned to frown at him, still restrained. His siblings caught a peek, as intended. “I have a prisoner.”

“I can see that,” said Kris, smirking. “Don’t you need some alone time to, you know, do your usual business?”

He gave a wry smile. “What makes you think I haven’t already finished with that?”

“Your reputation.”

Riley laughed. “Okay, this is serious. She’s a sniper. Tried to kill me not an hour ago.”

Quinn’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Are you kidding?”

“No. I’m not sure who sent her but I already have some leads. Her bullet broke the picture. If I hadn’t dropped something right when she fired, it would be me lying broken on the floor right now.”