Texas Takedown (10 page)

Dylan opened the first, held on to her hand tightly and ushered her inside. “The horses must have been turned out in the paddock.”

This room had to be Brody's office. Centering the space was a large oak desk with a leather chair behind it. There was a matching sofa to her left. It was a rich dark tone and massive in size. Dylan guided her there and helped her ease down onto it.

There were no windows. It would be dark inside without the light on.

“Lie still.” He placed a throw pillow behind her head.

On top of the desk was a white case with a red cross on it. A medical kit. Dylan retrieved it and instructed her to roll up the sleeve of her shirt.

She did.

The sofa dipped where he sat.

“No good. I can't see. Take it off.” His words came out harshly. He clenched his jaw. “I can turn around if you want, but I'm going to need to see to fix you up anyway.”

“It's okay. I have on a bra, which is a lot like wearing a swimsuit anyway, right?” She tried to sound convincing. Mostly, she needed to reassure herself that it was no big deal. Heat flushed her cheeks anyway as she eased out of her shirt with his help. Her left shoulder had been hit and it hurt when she moved. The wound itself was too bloody for her to really tell how bad it was, but the bleeding had stemmed.

Dylan grunted a few words under his breath when he saw it and she assumed they were the same words she was thinking. He pulled out the antiseptic wipes first, opened them and lined up a few on the sofa.

“This is going to sting. Let me know if it gets to be too much.” He went to work cleaning her gunshot wound. His hands were assured and surprisingly gentle. She didn't want to know how he'd become so good at it, figuring he'd picked up the skill during his time in Afghanistan.

“How bad is it?” she said, not wanting to look anymore, wincing with pain.

“I'm sorry if I'm hurting you.” His voice sounded pained.

“It could be a lot worse,” she offered.

“The bleeding has stopped, so now we want to clean it up well to keep out infection,” he said, tenderly blotting her wound with antibacterial pads before bandaging them.

When he was finished, his gaze drifted across her chest.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me,” she said, ignoring the rapid rise of her pulse.

“That should do it.” The words came out clipped.

She wondered if it had to do with the fact that she was lying there topless.

Chapter Nine

“All done,” Dylan said as he forced his gaze away from her creamy skin. Her lacy bra didn't help matters. It had taken considerable discipline to avert his eyes from the soft curve of her full breasts peeking out over the top.

He told himself that it had been too long since he'd had sex, and that part was true. He didn't want to acknowledge how much it might not matter when it came to Samantha. Even so, when had there been time this past year to do anything but potty train Maribel? No wonder his body reacted every time he touched Samantha. She was a beautiful woman. He was a man with needs. If it had been that simple, he was pretty sure they'd have been in bed already, recent events aside. There was so much more to it than that. They had history. He knew that she secretly liked being silly and she prided herself on not being too much of a girlie girl. He figured that was a gift from growing up with three brothers. Her laugh filled him like spring air. She had a single dimple on her left cheek that came out only when she smiled real wide.

She'd asked to hold his hand earlier, to help deal with the pain, and he just now realized that his thumb was moving in small circles against her palm.

One look into her cobalt-blue eyes—eyes that had darkened with the look he hadn't allowed himself to see in far too long—and his heart clutched.

If she hadn't been injured, he might have done something they'd both regret.

“You haven't slept. Do me a favor and try to close your eyes.” He pulled his hand back, gathered up used supplies and tossed them into the garbage.

“I feel as though I should be doing something.”

“We can't. Not until we know what their next move is,” he said.

She seemed to carefully consider his words.

“You're right.” She bit back a yawn as he turned off the light.

He hadn't wanted to admit just how freaked out he'd been when he saw that she'd been shot. He'd stayed calm for her benefit.

Dylan wouldn't survive losing her, too.
Where'd that come from?

Thankfully, Samantha would be all right.

“Will you come over here?” Her sweet, sleepy voice wasn't helping with his arousal.

The room had just enough light for him to see big objects without being able to tell what they were. His own adrenaline was fading, leaving him fatigued.

He walked over and sat down. She took his hand. Hers was so small in comparison, so soft.

“Will you lie next to me?” she asked in that sexy, sleepy voice. “Just until I fall asleep?”

He settled onto his side, being sure to keep a safe distance between them, and realized she was trembling. A lightning bolt of anger sizzled down his spine.

“I'm right here,” he whispered into her thick dark hair.

She wiggled until her back was flush with his chest, and she made a mewling sound as she snuggled against him. Her hips readjusted, causing her sweet round bottom to press against his swollen erection. His jeans were uncomfortably tight, so he shifted his position and she pressed into him farther. Blood pulsed thickly through his veins, and all he could think about this close was the lilac scent of her shampoo.

“Samantha.”

“Yeah.”

“You might not want to get so close to me.”

“Sorry. I didn't mean to trap you.” She made a pained noise as she moved.

“That's not the problem.”

“No?”

“If those hips of yours press into me one more time, I can't be held responsible for my actions.”

“Oh.” It was dark in the room, but he could sense that she was smiling.

She shouldn't want anything to do with him. His life had been beyond messed up before the military. She swiveled her hips until she surely felt his straining erection.

“Samantha, I'm warning you not to do that.”

“Now you're starting to sound like one of my brothers.”

“I have nothing brotherly in mind to do to you right now. And if you weren't injured, we'd both be in serious trouble, because I don't make a habit of forcing myself on anyone.”

“What makes you think I'd say no?”

That was the last thing he needed to hear.

“Are you intent on causing me more pain?”

“Sorry. No. Of course not.” She wiggled again, this time to inch away from him. Big mistake.

He stopped her with a hand on her hip. He curled his fingers around her waist, which felt tiny in comparison to his hand, into her taut skin, and he knew he was falling down the rabbit hole. She was so close he could feel her breathing against his chest, her breath hitching with his touch, her body trembling underneath his fingers.

Neither said a word, but the moment felt insanely intimate.

After a few seconds passed, she finally said, “Is it wrong that I like how your body feels against mine?”

“No. But if we let this go any further, it would kill our friendship.” Her shirt was still off and there was enough light for him to see her sexy silhouette. If trouble had a name, it would be Samantha.

His life had been ticking along fine before she waltzed in. Everything had finally made sense. He was meant to be Maribel's father. To this day, he figured he'd go to his grave wondering why Lyndsey had truly ditched him. Maybe she'd been smart enough to realize he wasn't good for her, for anyone.

And he'd surely kill his friendship with Samantha if he didn't maintain control, which was beyond difficult watching her breasts move up and down as she breathed.

Plus, he'd thought about those couple of kisses they'd shared way more than any man should.

Good grief, would he be calling his friends together for a glass of wine and to share feelings next?

How far did this out-of-control-emotions thing plan to go?

“You're probably right, but I can't help wondering what it would feel like if you ran your finger along here.” She picked up his hand and ran his index finger along the waistline of her shorts.

She rolled onto her back, looked into his eyes and traced the lace on her bra next.

All he could do in that moment was dip his head and claim her pink lips. He cupped her breast with his palm, and a jolt of need burst through him as her nipple beaded. His need for her, to be inside her, was so powerful it was a physical pain. And that scared him because he'd never felt that deep-seated need for anyone, not even Lyndsey. He'd never wanted to be inside anyone so much.

Her mouth moved under his, inviting him to explore. He slid his tongue between her lips and she opened her mouth to give him better access.

With her hands tunneling in his hair, roaming his chest, his skin burned with sexual energy.

All that was between his hand and her breast was a thin piece of lace. He traced down her stomach, lowering his hand until he was on her sex.

She moaned and bit his bottom lip, drawing it out between her teeth.

His desire for her was almost a savage force inside him now.

“Samantha.” He pulled back long enough to look into her eyes, needing to know she wanted this as much as he did, because much more and he'd be over the tipping point, no turning back. Her eyes were dark and glittery, her face flushed, her lips pink and swollen from kissing. She was the most incredibly sexy woman...

And it was clear she wanted exactly the same thing he did—mind-numbing, mind-blowing sex.

Dylan took in a sharp breath.

There was one more thing he wanted. And that darn thing would stop him from getting the others.

He'd promised himself that the next time he had sex, it would be with someone he had strong feelings for. He didn't want to say love, because, frankly, love was complicated as hell.

“I let this go too far,” he said, pushing off the sofa and into a sitting position. His punishment pulsed painfully against his zipper.

“Oh. You don't like me enough?” He hated the sound of embarrassment in her voice.

“I like you just fine. You're freakin' beautiful. And that body.” He took in another sharp breath.

“Then, I'm confused. You want me, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And I want this to happen, too.”

“It would seem so.”

“Then, what's the problem?”

He didn't want to tell her that he didn't have strong enough feelings for her. His were strong. And confusing as all hell. But mostly a complication he couldn't afford right now. Introducing another change in Maribel's life when he'd just given her some stability was out of the question. “It's Bel.”

She gave him a confused look.

“If things were different, then maybe we could take our time, date and see where this goes. But that's not a priority for me right now and, frankly, I don't have time for it to be.”

His words had the effect of a slap in the face. He didn't enjoy being harsh, but he'd said all of that more for him than her.

She covered herself with her shirt, turned on her side and then did what every woman he'd ever known had done to him when he'd said the wrong thing. Gave him the silent treatment.

* * *

H
UMILIATION
 
WAS
 
A
 
PYTHON
wrapped around Samantha, squeezing. Not only had she basically just thrown herself at one of her oldest friends, but she'd been rejected by him. Painfully. And if her shoulder didn't hurt so much, she'd have tossed and turned on this sofa or gotten up and stormed out. But it did. And she couldn't move any more than she could allow herself to cry.
Mortified
didn't begin to cover her embarrassment. If there'd been a crack big enough in the wall, she'd have slipped through it. While she was at it, why not ask for a tiny bottle or a looking glass? Her life made about as much sense. Then again, if she was really having her wishes granted, she should definitely aim for something higher, like forgetting any of this had ever happened. Or getting her father out of trouble. Or, better yet, saving her father and Dylan's little girl.

Frustration burned through her like chunks of a comet spiraling toward Earth.

They had no idea who they were really chasing and time was running out.

She strained to listen to Dylan, who was talking quietly into his cell phone on the other side of the room. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark. He was bent forward, his arms resting on his knees, being too quiet for her to be able to hear what he was saying. Most likely because he didn't want to interrupt her while she was supposed to be sleeping.

Slowly, she eased onto her back. The pain in her shoulder had already started thumping, and she could feel it worsen with every beat of her heart.

He ended the call and crossed the room, setting himself up to pace. He glanced down, looking as if his anger was barely contained, and his gaze stopped on her. She could've sworn his tongue slicked across his lips.

At his full height, he was imposing, to say the least, especially with his arms folded across his broad chest. And, as much as she didn't want to think about it, he was incredibly sexy.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Jorge. He sent me photos of Alcorn's security team and I didn't see our guys.”

“Which means they don't work for him.”

“They might be off the books, but we can't link them.” He stalked to one end of the room and back.

“Have you figured out what they want us to do next?”

“You're injured and need to rest.” Surely he wasn't saying what she thought.

“Oh, no. You're not leaving me here while you go out there.” She motioned toward outside.

His face was carved in stone. “They have my daughter. And I'm running out of time.”

“We are. Or don't you do ‘we'?” She shouldn't have gone there but she did anyway. His earlier rejection still stung.

She geared up, expecting a fight. Instead, he softened his stance and there was a quirky little smirk settled into the corners of his mouth.
Damn.
Even when she wanted to throttle him, he was being sexy.

“You got me there. But that doesn't change the fact that you've been shot. You lost blood today and you have to take that seriously. You're safe here for the time being, and that's the best gift you can give to your father and Maribel. They don't want me. They want
you
. Even if they catch me, I'm not the target.
You are.
”

Didn't those words send a chill up Samantha's spine?

“I see your point but I have a question. Where does that leave me? You're all I have right now. Anything happens to you and I might as well walk into the center of Main Street and take a seat. They'll get to me. You're the only thing keeping me safe.” As much as it scared and angered her to admit it, she needed him. And a traitorous piece of her heart actually didn't mind depending on someone else. And that was just ridiculous, because she'd fought for her independence from her three older brothers for how long?

What was so different about Dylan that depending on him didn't make her feel as if she was being less than in some way?

His hands came up, palms out, in the universal sign of surrender. “I want you with me. Believe me. That's the only way I can be guaranteed of your safety. Your injury is making bringing you with me that much more difficult. We might end up in a situation where we have to be able to run and get away quickly. I don't know what I'll be facing but I have to investigate those woods.”

She appreciated that he didn't point out that she'd be slowing him down, even if that was the writing on the wall. He would be right. She would hold him back. The men she and Dylan were up against seemed to anticipate her movements. They had resources. And they seemed to be right there, waiting, no matter which way she and Dylan turned.

And that was definitely not good.

“I'll have Brody check in on you. He doesn't normally spend much time in his office, so he's trying not to change his behavior in front of his staff. It's best if we can fly under the radar as much as possible right now. Rebecca said she'd figure out a way to send food in. She wishes we'd stay in the house but she understands that it's too risky.”