Savage Betrayal: Savage, Book 2 (28 page)

Grace froze, not daring to breathe for a moment, and cast another glance at Agent Yorioka.

She struggled with the memory of the night—tried to remember if the other woman had been at the table still when Grace had gone to use the bathroom.

Was she just being paranoid? Yorioka was a fellow agent. Maybe she didn’t like her, but animosity wasn’t a motive to threaten her. And to threaten her off the Wilson case?

Unless the Wilson case threat was just a guise—she’d thought it awfully flimsy anyway. Maybe the attack had been a way to scare her away from the agency. Maybe the motive had been to keep her from returning to work, not just the case. Or maybe Jocelyn had another inside agent. It wouldn’t be the first time.

When they arrived at Thom Wilson’s house, she couldn’t push aside the sense of distrust toward Yorioka, but did her best to disguise it.

Thom’s widow was just as sweet and helpful as before, and showed Grace to his personal computer when she asked.

“What are you looking for?” Yorioka leaned down to glance over her shoulder. “We’ve already checked emails. There’s nothing to link him to Feloray Laboratories.”

“That’s fine. I’m not looking for that.” And she wasn’t. She clicked on the sent items in his email and scrolled through the topics.

Nothing looked overtly suspicious, but her attention did snag on an email he sent himself with a curious subject line.

Grandma’s Lasagna recipe.

Premonition tingled through her as she kept the cursor hovering over the email.

“Lasagna? Seriously?” Yorioka shook her head and walked away. “Waste of fucking time coming here today.”

No it wasn’t. Relieved that the other woman had walked away, Grace opened the email and exhilaration raced through her.

What was in the email wasn’t even close to a recipe. But then she’d anticipated that the moment she’d seen the subject line.

During their time locked up in the experiments they’d talked about everything under the sun. Including Thom’s grandma’s lasagna. While delirious from hunger and bad drugs, they’d talked about food and what a real bed would feel like again. He’d talked especially long about his grandma’s lasagna recipe that was so amazing, and how someday he’d email it to her if they survived.

Grace opened the email, knowing with one-hundred-percent certainty the body of the email wouldn’t contain a recipe.

What she stared at was probably some kind of final journal entry Thom had sent himself. Maybe he’d sensed something might happen to him, and had known if it did Grace would be one of the people investigating.

The email was mostly incoherent rambling, but he mentioned being depressed and trying to overcome it without medication. Her heart sank a bit, knowing that it didn’t do well as proof that he hadn’t killed himself.

He then went on to mention an elderly uncle named Curt who had retired from the P.I.A., and how on his deathbed the man had confessed to using the memory-wiping machine for sinister purposes—both on shifter women and children. Thom had ended the email by labeling Jocelyn a murderess and said he’d make sure she paid for her crimes.

Murderess? Grace frowned, drumming her fingers on the desk. She hadn’t outright killed any of the volunteers. None had even died from side effects to the drugs.

But maybe he’d had something on her, maybe this Curt—whoever he was—had legitimate information that had cost Thom his life.

Grace forwarded the email to herself, wanting to study it in more detail later.

“So is the recipe to die for?”

Yorioka’s sarcastic question announced her return, and Grace quickly minimized the screen.

To die for.
Interesting choice in words.

“It’s nothing special,” she murmured succinctly. And now she’d just lied to a fellow agent. Why didn’t she tell Yorioka about what was really in the email?

Because you don’t trust her.

And the drive back to the agency made her realize that even more.

She snuck another glance at the other agent and found the woman watching her.

Ignoring the trickle of disquiet that slid through her blood, Grace turned her attention back to the road.

Yes. Until she was certain she could trust Yorioka, she was going to be careful with the information she divulged.

“So you think it means something?” Darrius set down the email Grace had handed him a moment ago and rubbed his jaw.

He had his own thoughts about what he’d just read, but he was curious about Grace’s.

“I think it could potentially mean everything,” she said, animation dancing in her voice as she pulled out a chair and sat down beside him at the kitchen table. “I want to find out more about Curt Lancaster.”

“Not a bad idea. What were Yorioka’s impressions on this email?”

Grace’s eyes became shuttered and her mouth tightened. “I didn’t show her.”

And yet he was aware the agent had been with Grace most of today. “Really?”

“Really. I don’t trust her, Darrius.”

“She’s a member of your team.”

“I’m aware of that. When I was attacked on Wednesday, do you know for certain she was at the table?”

Darrius blinked, stunned by the not-so-subtle implication Grace was throwing out about Agent Yorioka.

“I don’t know. I think she and Alicia might’ve all gone out to smoke. What the hell are you implying?”

She shook her head and looked away. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

“Uh, a little hard to do.”

“All I’m saying is that one of the people who attacked me was a woman. And Yorioka’s made it pretty damn clear she doesn’t care for me.”

“Right. Which would make her pretty damn stupid if she did try and attack you,” he pointed out tersely. “What would her motivation even be?”

“I don’t know.” Grace pulled her hair down from a ponytail and shook it out, threading her fingers through the strands. “Like I said, forget it.”

Mentally dumping her asinine accusations wasn’t too hard, as she began to unbutton her shirt.

His pulse jumped. “What are you doing?”

“Undressing. I’d like to have sex now, if you don’t mind.”

Chapter Nineteen

Holy shit. Darrius’s cock lurched against his jeans, and the air hissed out from between his teeth.

“Are you deliberately trying to shock me tonight? You’re not holding back any punches.”

“I’m not trying to shock you.” She shrugged out of her blouse and then unhooked her bra. “I just want you, have been thinking about you all day, and I think sex will be great stress relief.”

“You’re using me for stress relief?” He didn’t know whether to be offended or relieved, but was a little distracted by the sensual way her small breasts curved upward and were crowned with those mouth-watering nipples.

Grace moved around the table and sat down in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Don’t look so pissy. You’re good at sex. Really good at it. I enjoy having it with you and I know doing it now—or fairly soon—will take my mind off of things.”

His ego swelled a bit over the
good at it
comment and he curled his fingers into the strands of her hair, tugging her head back slightly.

“Good at it, hmm?” He kissed the pulse beating lightly in her neck and felt it quicken beneath his lips.

Maybe she did need the distraction. She’d already called her sister twice tonight, and seemed reassured of her safety, but apparently her mind wouldn’t shut down. Whether it was Aubree or work, she seemed pretty high-strung.

The idea of taking her again sent a surge of lust through him, and he moved his other hand up to cup her bare breast. The nipple hardened further in his palm and he murmured appreciatively.

“So you’re okay with this, Grace? With us and just casual sex?” Where had that question come from? Why the hell was he even bringing it up again?

Because he didn’t want to hurt her. Didn’t want her to become attached…
Fuck
. Like he was.

His heart beat a little harder and he clenched his jaw. He cared about her, more than he should’ve. More than he had any right too.

Because someday she would leave him. Someday, hell, it could happen tomorrow even. But it
would
happen. Grace would find her mate and then she’d be done with Darrius.

The pain, the utter jealously over a man he didn’t even know yet, swelled inside him and nearly blinded him in a haze of red.

“Don’t worry. Casual sex is perfect.” She cupped his face, drew her thumbs down his jaw and then pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “It’s all I have time for right now. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Her words only stoked the fire of frustration in him, while at the same time brought the flames of need higher. He wanted her. Now. And he didn’t want her to be so damn cavalier in her attitude about sex with him. He wanted her driven mad with the same need that rode him like a demon.

Tightening his fingers in her hair, he tugged her neck back as a low growl escaped from his throat.

Grace made a whimper of surprise, but didn’t protest as he kissed the pulse in her neck again. His tongue flicked over the delicate skin, and the need to bite her was almost tangible.

Fuck. But there was nothing. No dropping of his canines—nothing that would ever give him the chance to claim the one woman who should’ve been his.

But he could fuck her. He could take her until she couldn’t see straight and was screaming his name. Until his image was burned into her mind and soul.

Or was that just wishful thinking?

His chest tightened. He shoved aside the encumbering thoughts and tried to focus on the lust that lingered beneath.

Moving his mouth lower, he lifted her slightly so the roundness of her breast brushed his lips.

He caught the stiff peak of her nipple in his mouth and drew on it, listening and responding to her cry of pleasure. Using his teeth, he grazed the flesh and was rewarded with a low moan and her nails digging into his shoulders.

Using his free hand, he unfastened her pants and delved his fingers inside and beneath the panties.

While sucking on her nipple, he worked a finger inside her, maneuvering it in and out of her hot, wet channel.

Grace’s breathing grew heavier and she started to move against his hand.

He added a second finger, stretching her and preparing her for him, because he knew he wasn’t going to last very much longer before it wasn’t his fingers, but his dick inside her.

She fumbled to unbutton his shirt, and then smoothed the palms of her hands down his chest.

“Darrius,” she whispered. “I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

Needing so much more—and especially needing the clothes off—Darrius adjusted her in his arms and stood up. He strode through the house to her bedroom and set her back down on her feet.

She immediately pushed his shirt from his body and then reached for the button on his pants.

“In a hurry, sugar?” he rasped, catching her hand.

Red faintly stained her cheeks, but other than that she didn’t show the slightest bit of embarrassment. “I can’t seem to go slow with you. I’m not going to apologize.”

“I don’t mind,” he murmured. “But I might want to take my time with you this time.”

She let out a small groan and she freed him from his pants. But then it was his turn to groan as she began to stroke him into rock-hard readiness.

Part of him wanted to take her slow—to force her to feel and acknowledge the complex emotions running through her. Because, hell, he couldn’t be the only one feeling a little messed up inside about what was between them.

When she made to sink to her knees, he caught her elbow and gave a hard shake of his head. He wanted to slow things down, and if she took him in her mouth it would be over before it began.

“I want you on the bed. Naked and on your hands and knees.”

Her breasts rose with the sharp breath she drew in, but she immediately moved to comply. She shirked her pants and thong with quick ease before climbing onto the bed and assuming the position he’d required.

“You’re such a good little order taker,” he murmured as he finished taking off his clothes.

“Mmm. Don’t get used to this.” The laughter was held back, but thick in her voice. “I’m having fun right now, but watch out because one of these days I might take over and be Miss Bossy Pants.”

“Now that just might be interesting.” Naked, he climbed onto the bed beside her and trailed two fingers down the curve of her spine.

“So beautiful.” He pressed a kiss at the small dent just above her bottom and she shivered slightly. “So trusting.”

“You made it hard not to trust you, so blame yourself.” There was wariness in her words now.

He lowered his head to press a kiss against the curve of one ass cheek. She had the sexiest bottom.

“Oh, I’m not protesting, sugar.” He slid his hand down between her cheeks to find the damp folds of her sex. “It’s actually pretty damn humbling to have your trust.”