Sins Brothers [1] Forgotten Sins (24 page)

“George was hired by a man named Max. My brothers are trying to find out who Max is right now. Max probably killed Billy, and I promise you, I’ll find him.”

“What file did George want?” Her mind had been spinning and she couldn’t find an answer.

“He didn’t know which file. George was supposed to call his boss once you two were in the office for more direction.”

Darn it. There was no way she could figure out which file everyone wanted. Josie’s head began to hurt. “I have to figure this out.”

“I’ll look into it.”

“No. I will.” Her brain began to click facts into order. “So George failed.”

Shane’s eyes narrowed. “George’s job was to ride the elevator up and down all day, waiting for a chance to get to you. You gave him the opportunity.” Shane’s jaw tightened. “Next time I tell you to stay someplace, you damn well better do it.”

“Or what?”

Shane jerked his head back, surprise flashing through his deep eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You’re always telling me what to do, Shane. I’m tired of it.” She jerked out of his hold. For better or worse, she’d made a vow to him. His world was dark, and maybe she could bring some light into it. Even a little. “I’m tired of you thinking I’m too soft. That I can’t handle myself.”

“So you can handle yourself, can you?” A low warning threaded through his deep tone.

Pinpricks scattered along her skin. She sensed a trap hidden in the innocuous words. But she tilted her chin. “Yes. I can.”

“Good.” His smile could never be considered kind. “Let’s see you handle yourself.” He grabbed her arms, lifted her against him, and stepped into the shower.

“Hey—” she protested as she slid down his hard body and dampened her pajamas.

He pivoted and the pelting spray drenched her back.

Fire slammed into her abdomen. She struggled. “Damn it, Shane.” He wanted to see her skills? Fine. Wounded fingers curled into a fist, which she shot toward his throat.

Shane dodged, allowing the blow to glance off the side of his neck. “Impressive.” One arm wrapped around her bare waist while the other whipped off her top. Her breasts sprang free, her nipples already pebbling with need.

She struggled against both Shane and desire, punching him in the shoulder. Pain ricocheted up her arm.

Shane dropped her to her feet. “If you hurt yourself, I’m going to be seriously pissed off.” He shoved her sopping pajama pants and panties down, lifting her with one arm and yanking them out of the way.

Oh, this should so not be turning her on. Her breath came faster. Her heart beat harder. Temper battled with need. Her body fought with her mind, with her stubborn will. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Maybe she should aim for his knee. The temptation to knock him on his ass, just once, narrowed her focus into sheer determination.

“Your husband.” He jerked her to him, his body hard against hers. Taking her mouth, his tongue shot past her lips, commanding a response.

A whimper lodged in her throat.

One thick hand tangled in her hair, tugging her head to the position he wanted. He went deeper. His mouth claimed, his tongue possessed. An odd sense of desperation hinted in his kiss.

Without warning, he flipped her around, placing her hands on the smooth tile. His tongue flicked the shell of her ear. “Is your jaw all right?” Rough and hoarse, his voice triggered liquid need to coat her thighs.

“Fine.” She pushed back against him, her bare butt against his erection. Her eyelids fluttered shut.

He grabbed her hip, holding her still. His other hand flattened against her belly, sliding up across her breasts to her throat. Flames licked her skin. He cupped the unbruised side of her jaw, and tugged back, stretching her neck. “Keep your hands on the tile.”

He held her immobile, resting her head against his shoulder and dipping his mouth to her exposed jugular. His warm palm curved around her neck, holding her where he wanted her. His teeth sank into the soft area of her shoulder. Marking her.

Her thighs quivered. A spiraling started deep inside, and she pushed back against him.

A sharp slap against her ass had her crying out. “Stay still.”

She stiffened, too many emotions whipping through her to concentrate on just one. An edge had always existed in Shane, especially in the bedroom. But something had been let loose. A wildness, a darkness she’d always suspected he hid. His memories were returning, and yet he hadn’t retreated behind that wall.

Maybe things could be different this time.

His mouth found her ear to nip her earlobe. Tingles sprang up on her skin as he covered her breasts, tweaking both nipples before sliding south. Parting her, he slipped two fingers into her heat. “You’re so hot for me.”

Her knees softened. She pushed her flattened hands harder against the tiles, trying to maintain balance. To maintain control. He angled his palm, sliding against her clit. She cried out. Too much. She needed him now.

He chuckled hot breath against her ear, the sound wicked and arrogant. “We stayed at a hotel with a small pool once. Right?”

Her sex clutched around his dangerous fingers. “Yes. You remember?”

“The water, you, the steam… a memory is coming back.” His erection jerked against her ass. His fingers played, crisscrossing inside her. His other hand kneaded her breast, concentrating on rolling the nipple between two fingers. “We made good use of that pool. You screamed my name as you milked me dry.”

Yes, but he’d been so gentle, even then. She hadn’t wanted gentleness. She’d wanted him. Memories flashed through her mind, showing how very different he was now. Man, she wanted him like this. “Shane, please.”

“Ah, angel. I love how sweetly you ask.” Bending over her, he slid a rough palm down her hip and leg, lifting her knee to place her foot on the narrow bench. A quiver began around his fingers. He withdrew and she hissed in protest. “Not yet,” he murmured, “We have a few things to get straight first.”

Focus. Her mind spun while her body throbbed. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re in danger, and you’re going to let me handle it.” He pressed against her entrance, sliding forward so slowly, too slowly. She pushed back against him, crying out when he filled her. Both eyes opened wide.

Muscles vibrated in her shoulders as she straightened her arms, taking more of him. Taking all of him.

He groaned against her ear, his body protecting her back from the hot spray. “You’re a dangerous woman, Mrs. Dean.”

Her laugh came out strangled. “I appreciate that, Major Dean.” She tilted forward and then slammed back.

His hands instantly clasped her hips, keeping her in place. “Slow down, darlin’.”

“No.” She struggled against his hands, causing sparks of pure pleasure to ripple along the sensitive nerves holding him captive.

His indrawn breath made her smile in triumph. She did it again.

“Damn it, Josie. I want to talk.” But he slid out and then impaled her.

She closed her eyes. Fire sheeted white behind her eyelids. Using the wall for leverage, she pushed back, throwing her head against his shoulder, biting her lips.

Shane snapped. With a growl, he dug his fingers into her hips, yanking her against him. Then he started to pound. Harder and faster than ever before. Furious and forceful, he settled his mouth at the base of her neck. He was finally being himself, finally taking her like she needed. For the first time, she felt like he was hers—completely. All of him belonged to her and her only.

She cried out, the delicious friction so fierce her breath caught on the scream. Pleasure stabbed through her at his relentless strokes. Need whipped along her nerves to the point of pain. The pinnacle she needed to crest or die.

His hand slid down and found her clit.

Fire ripped through her nerves. She broke, tumbling over. Her mouth opened on a silent scream as she arched her back, letting the overwhelming pleasure ripple through her. She sobbed his name.

With a tightening of his hold, he pounded harder. Faster. His large body tightened around her as he came, his breath hot at her ear. Finally, he stopped moving, remaining inside her, his heart beating a rapid tempo against her back. “I love you, angel.”

The words were soft.

The tone possessive.

The promise absolute.

* * *

Shane tossed in the big bed, wandering through the twilight between dreams and reality. His brain relaxed, and he let memories wash over him.

Two years ago, he’d whistled a country tune, walking home from the bakery to his woman. Josie. Doubt had still assailed him, but maybe he had a chance at a normal life. Sure, what had happened to his brother Nathan was a tragedy, and when Nathan was betrayed by Audrey, his life pretty much stopped. But Nate had never talked about the whole story. Something else had happened, and he wouldn’t discuss it. But now, maybe Shane could find a better ending.

The hair on the back of Shane’s neck had prickled. He had shifted the freshly baked baguettes to his other hand, reaching for the knife in his back pocket.

“Not necessary,” a low voice muttered from the alley.

Relief relaxed his shoulders as Shane dodged into the alley to face his brothers. “Matt, Nate. Why are we in an alley?” Humor tilted Shane’s lips. Matt hated drama, while Nate had once lived for it. When he lived for something.

Matt didn’t return the smile, just stared at him with those dark gray eyes.

Dread whispered along Shane’s skin. His ribs instantly had ached. No. “What?”

“Jory’s dead.”

Two years later, the words made Shane sit upright in bed, his gut revolting. Pain filled his body. Jory. The youngest kid, the smallest, the one who tried so much harder than the rest of them. Until he grew and kicked ass.

Shane breathed out, glancing at the sleeping bundle next to him. Tiny. She was so tiny, curled up like a kitten. Her lips pouted in her sleep, and he flashed back to the many times he’d lounged next to the bed. Watching her. He’d meant to talk some sense into her in the shower. Show her who was boss. She’d taken him. Wrapped her little body around him as tightly as she’d bound his heart.

Jesus. He couldn’t keep his own brother safe. How could he keep Josie safe? While memories were flashing home, there were more he needed to find. He’d told Josie he was keeping her, but what if that was a death sentence? Maybe loving her really did mean releasing her. But could he?

His hand trembled when he reached out and smoothed back the wispy hair on her forehead. Her skin felt like the finest of silks. Though the bruise spreading across her jaw made him wish he had killed George.

How could he see so well in the dark?

Time for some answers.

He rolled from the bed and pulled on his jeans, stalking on bare feet down the hallway to the living room.

Nathan glared at him from the table, where he had put together a scanner. His wet hair lay curled against his neck. “You used all the hot water, asshole.”

“Sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Why can I see in the dark? How can I guess the speed of a vehicle thirty miles away? Shit, how can I
hear
a vehicle that far away?” Anger fought reason for dominance in his brain. “How did I know how to interrogate that bastard earlier?”

Nathan sat back, his eyes thoughtful. “What do you remember?”

Shane growled and strode to the kitchen, grabbing two beers from the refrigerator. Guinness. He handed one to Nathan and dropped into a thick leather chair. “I remember a military academy and breaking my arm. Then I remember Matt telling me Jory was dead.” Even now, pain caught the air in his throat. “Small scenes, small memories scattered throughout. I’m starting to remember everything about Josie.” Shane squinted his eyes, looking into the past. “I know we don’t have parents. I don’t know how I know that, but I remember wanting parents.”

“At two years older than me, Matt’s the closest thing we ever had,” Nathan said softly. He rubbed his chin. “It might be easier not knowing. But you’re right. We don’t have parents.”

“Why not?”

Nathan exhaled. “We’re experiments, Shane. Genetics, psychology, and test tubes.”

Chapter 20

Shane extended his legs, stretching out. The more his mind spun, the more relaxed his body became. Interesting reaction. “Test tubes?”

“Yes.” Nathan took a deep drink of the dark brew. “We’re part of a military experiment. Trained to fight, trained to kill since birth.”

A soft pattering sounded down the hallway. Shane tilted his head to listen. Josie had crept forward. The little eavesdropper. He could whisk her back to bed or allow her to hear everything. It was past time to have his cards on the table. He pinned his brother with a look. “So we’re not brothers?”

Nathan cut his eyes to the hallway and then back at Shane. With a shrug, he shook his head. “We’re brothers. Part of the experiment was to see how we related, how we trained, what motivated us.” A warning light entered his eyes. “We weren’t the only team. There were several.” He shook his head at the hallway.

Too bad. Let her learn the truth. “That explains the eye color.”

Nathan’s jaw tightened, but he continued. “Yes. Same father. Some ultra-soldier, from what Jory was able to hack. Take a genius female and her womb, some serious genetic engineering, and they created us.”

“Different females?”

Nathan shrugged. “Yes. Hopefully all human DNA—but who knows. If documents exist about that, we haven’t been able to find them.”

“Josie thinks I have a hang-up about kind women.”

“Yeah.” Nathan took another deep swallow. “The women we knew were either stone-cold scientists or really rough soldiers. Mainly.” His gaze slid to his boots.

The hair on the back of Shane’s neck prickled. “Mainly?”

“Yeah, ah”—Nathan cleared his throat—“let’s just say they sent other women to us while we were in our teens.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “There isn’t much we don’t understand about sexual manipulation.”

Jesus. Shane dug a palm into his eye. “The barracks I remember. We lived in that place?”

“Yes. Different groups were assigned divisions, all created with similar DNA. Brothers.”