Targeted (17 page)
• • •
Sophie flopped down on the towel next to Sam, stretching out on her stomach. “It’s getting so hot,” she complained. “Come in the water with me.”
He hated the fucking beach with all the sand and nothing to do, but with Sophie, he had plenty to do. Namely, watch her. Well, and watch
out
for her. It pissed him off how many guys checked her out. It was so blatant. She didn’t seem to notice, though. That was the only thing that made the constant tension humming through him ease.
out
for her. It pissed him off how many guys checked her out. It was so blatant. She didn’t seem to notice, though. That was the only thing that made the constant tension humming through him ease.
They’d been coming to the beach the past two months every weekend. She loved it and it was free entertainment. And it kept them out of Ms. Bigsby’s hair, which was a big plus. He’d learned long ago not to piss off decent foster parents. Ms. Bigsby wouldn’t win any parenting awards, but she didn’t beat them and she kept them fed and clothed. Both he and Sophie tried to be as trouble free as possible, and the lady liked them well enough. Being away from the house gave the old woman her space and she got a paycheck for letting them live there. They were all happy. And safe.
He started to roll over onto his stomach to talk to her, but stood when he saw Marco, a guy from his baseball team, walking toward them. “Hey, man.” He nodded at the guy. They weren’t tight, but they were close enough.
“Hey, Sam. Some of the guys are grilling and playing volleyball. Bring your girl and join us if you want.” He nodded politely at Sophie, who had turned over and smiled at him.
Sam forced himself not to stare at her. When she was wearing a bikini that covered practically nothing, it was damn hard not to. She was so tan and lean, and all he wanted to do was feel her body against his. He kept his gaze off her, though. He’d just gotten his body back under control and he refused to embarrass himself in front of her and his teammate.
“We were just about to hit the water, but we’ll come over later?” he asked.
Marco nodded, then gave Sophie’s body a lingering look that Sam recognized all too well before heading back to the group of six guys and three girls about twenty yards from them.
“We can go over now if you want.” Sophie stood, brushing sand off her slender legs.
His gaze strayed down the length of her lean body and he abruptly turned away from her, facing the direction of the water. “We’ll go later,” he said curtly.
“Jeez, what’s wrong with you? I thought you liked Marco.” She nudged him with her hip as they headed to the glistening Atlantic.
She’d left her dark brown hair down so that it fell in soft waves down her back, and the plain black bikini she wore barely covered her breasts. Probably because it was a couple of years old. The little triangles should be illegal; they barely covered her nipples. So what was wrong with him? He was starting to get a hard-on at the beach and they were surrounded by hundreds of people—some of them his friends.
As soon as they reached the water, relief coursed through him. When he was waist deep, he breathed out a sigh—until Sophie jumped on his back and wrapped her legs around him. She was so much shorter than him and she always did this so he could carry her out deeper. He loved the feel of her almost naked body on his, but today he was edgy. It was getting harder and harder not to make a move on her.
“You want to see a movie later tonight?” she asked, her mouth right next to his ear.
The feel of her warm breath made goose bumps break out across his skin. “Sure, what do you want to see?” He couldn’t tell if his voice sounded strangled or not.
She didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t care. Anything that keeps us out of the house is fine.”
When they reached a short sandbar, she jumped off his back and dove underwater. As she came back up, she slicked her hair back and grinned at him before splashing him. She was the combination of every fantasy and wet dream he’d ever had. Water rolled down her tan body and he could see the outline of her nipples—which had been taunting him for months. He was dying to see what they looked like, to taste them. To know what color they were. He couldn’t even smile at her when she splashed him again. He felt like such an asshole, but he couldn’t force the muscles to work. Sitting on the sandbar, he rubbed a wet, salt-tinged hand over his face.
“What’s wrong? Are you mad at me?” She sidled up next to him, hesitation in her voice.
He hated that he’d put it there. She was so damn sensitive and sweet. She’d been dealt a shitty hand in life and she always kept up walls. It was why she never even noticed when the guys at school checked her out. Either she didn’t want to notice or she didn’t care. But with him she was different and he knew he had to be careful with her. He could never hurt her. It would kill him inside if he did.
“I could never be mad at you, Soph. I just . . .” He trailed off, not wanting to say something stupid that would hurt their friendship. He felt so much for her. So much that it scared him, but he wouldn’t risk accidentally pushing her away if she didn’t feel the same. Some days he really thought she might want him, especially when she looked at him as if she wanted to kiss him. But she was so guarded it was too hard to tell.
“What? Tell me now,” she demanded in that haughty voice she only used with him. The girl had such a temper sometimes. It was buried deep, but when she let it out, it stunned him—and turned him on.
“Or what?” he teased, needing to lighten the mood. If he could get her mind off the way he’d been acting and what he’d almost admitted, things could go back to normal. And he could act normal. He just needed to get on even footing again.
“Or . . . or . . .” She sputtered for a moment before lunging at him, tackling him in the shallow water. “I’ll
make
you tell me.” She took him off guard, rolling over him and pushing him back in the water with a splash as her body covered his. Soph started to tickle him, but froze as her legs splayed over him.
make
you tell me.” She took him off guard, rolling over him and pushing him back in the water with a splash as her body covered his. Soph started to tickle him, but froze as her legs splayed over him.
It was the worst possible position for them to be in. Usually he could hide his erection or get it to go away by thinking of things not-Sophie, but she was practically straddling his lap. Lifting herself up on her legs, she tried to back away, but her knees sank into the sand and she rubbed her groin right over his hardness. He let out a groan and she sucked in a deep breath, but neither looked away from each other.
Her dark eyes widened and she sat back down, completely straddling him now. The water was calm, the waves small and barely rippling around them. He could hear people on the beach and there were a few in the ocean a good distance from them, but all his focus was on Sophie and her reaction to this. To him.
She swallowed hard. “Are you . . .” Her cheeks flushed bright red.
He was pretty sure his face matched hers. “Yeah.”
“Is it because of . . . me?” She bit her bottom lip nervously.
He wanted to lie. He ordered himself to. But he couldn’t. Lying to Soph was damn near impossible. How could she not know how he felt about her? “Yeah.”
At that, her cheeks flushed a dark crimson, but she didn’t pull away. She leaned closer and, taking him completely by surprise, brushed her lips softly against his. “Good.”
Jack opened his eyes and realized his hand was wrapped around his cock. Which was rock hard.
Fuck me.
He’d always been in control of his body. Until twenty-four hours ago. He shifted against the sheets, which had suddenly turned to sandpaper against his skin. After the last thing she’d said before she went to sleep, it was as if Sophie had waved a bright red flag in front of him and he felt like the raging bull she was teasing. Only she wasn’t teasing. He glanced over at her bed. She was still turned on her side, her back facing him and her breathing steady. Sound asleep. Thank God she hadn’t seen him.
He closed his eyes and tried to block out her face, but it was impossible. Not after that damn dream. It was the second one he’d had of her recently—and in such a short time period. Before that it had been years.
He’d never forget the day he found out he was being placed in the same foster home as Sophie. He’d known who she was from school, but she’d never looked twice at him. She’d never looked twice at
any
guy. She’d walked around with her head down everywhere she went. Half the baseball team had wanted a shot at her, but she’d been oblivious of her own attractiveness. Before he’d actually talked to her, he’d been so sure she was a snob.
any
guy. She’d walked around with her head down everywhere she went. Half the baseball team had wanted a shot at her, but she’d been oblivious of her own attractiveness. Before he’d actually talked to her, he’d been so sure she was a snob.
When he’d realized she was just quiet, things had drastically changed and his attraction had grown overnight. In his world, survival of the fittest was the rule and he’d never been particularly protective of anyone.
Until her.
He’d definitely never had the urge to hit a girl until he’d seen some stupid neighborhood girl bullying his Sophie.
Until her.
He’d definitely never had the urge to hit a girl until he’d seen some stupid neighborhood girl bullying his Sophie.
His.
The word echoed in his head. Some days he cursed ever meeting her. She made him want things he couldn’t have. Made him feel protective and proprietary when his world didn’t allow those kinds of emotions. He didn’t give a shit what Wesley said about him getting rid of his demons. It didn’t matter if he did. He’d never be able to settle down. There was no way he could subject a woman to the kind of life he led. Never knowing where he was or how long he’d be gone.
So why even fantasize about taking just a night with Sophie? Or even a few hours? Even when they were younger he’d known they belonged together, and that feeling was still so damn overwhelming. Being around her brought back all those feelings of insecurity. He had the best training in the world, but put him in the same room as Sophie Moreno and he felt like that tongue-tied seventeen-year-old kid again who would do anything for the girl he’d loved.
Groaning, he grabbed the extra pillow on the bed and held it over his face. What the hell was wrong with him?
• • •
Hannah’s hands shook as she pulled her duffel bag out from underneath her bed. She’d never heard Sophie—or anyone for that matter—sound so scared before. Hannah wasn’t sure what was going on, but she trusted her best friend.
Sophie was sometimes a control freak, but the woman always kept her head on straight. Even in college, she’d been responsible and dependable as hell. Always the designated driver. Always studied before a big exam. Never late to a class. If Sophie said something was wrong, Hannah believed her.
After tossing a few pairs of jeans, sweaters, and undergarments into her bag, she cleaned off her bathroom counter with one swipe of her arm and just dumped everything in at once. Her mind raced as she tried to think of where she’d go. Sophie had told her to choose somewhere that not even Sophie would know about. That didn’t leave many options.
Her parents had a house in Fort Lauderdale and they also had a cabin in North Carolina. She didn’t think anyone knew about the cabin, but it was still connected to her family. Sophie had been pretty clear about avoiding any place like that. As Hannah shrugged into her coat, she shoved those thoughts away. Hell, she’d grab some cash and keep driving until an idea came to her if that’s what it took to stay alive. Because Sophie had sounded
terrified
.
terrified
.
As Hannah entered the hallway from her bedroom, she started to turn on the lights out of habit, but jerked her hand back as if burned. If someone was watching her house, she didn’t want them to know she was awake. Her feet were silent along the carpeted hallway. Right about now she wished she owned a gun or some kind of weapon other than pepper spray.
For a brief moment, she thought she heard a creak come from her living room. Numbness settled in her bones at that sound, making her feet lead. Waiting, she listened but didn’t hear it again. Trying to steady her nerves, she reminded herself that her house had been built in the fifties. If she wasn’t scared out of her freaking mind, she probably wouldn’t have noticed it. With shaking hands, she clasped the handle of the door that led to her garage and quickly ducked inside.
It was empty except for her car.
Without pause she dumped everything in the backseat and slid into the driver’s side. She cringed at the sound of the garage door opening, but she had no choice unless she wanted to drive through it.
Her slick palms slid against the steering wheel, but when she saw that there was no one visible in the rearview mirror she let out a harsh, high-pitched laugh that sounded a little maniacal in the enclosed space of her vehicle. Nothing about the situation was remotely funny, but her nerves were fried. As she pulled out of the garage, she screamed as glass shattered around her. Instinctively she ducked and covered her face as shards flew at her.
A dark shadow reached through the broken window.
She screamed again and tried to press on the gas but jerked back when a fist connected with her jaw. Her entire body jolted back against the seat. She was vaguely aware of pain slamming through her face, but her adrenaline spiked hard. Using her hands as a weapon, she tried to fend off her attacker. Punching at the man, she connected briefly with someone’s arm, but the contact was pitiful.
Someone grunted and then very fast fists and something shiny—a knife maybe—flashed around her. She tried to hit the gas again, but hands were everywhere and her attacker yanked the keys from the ignition. Her car shuddered as it turned off. It all happened so fast she couldn’t stop it. Before she could contemplate an escape, rough hands grabbed her shoulders.
As she tried to pull away, the door opened and she toppled through. Then she was shoved facedown on her hard driveway. Her face rubbed against the gravel, and a sharp burst of panic punched through her like a live blow.
“Quit struggling, little
puta
,” the man on top of her growled in a Spanish accent. His knee dug into her back. She tried to struggle, but his weight proved too much.
puta
,” the man on top of her growled in a Spanish accent. His knee dug into her back. She tried to struggle, but his weight proved too much.
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