THE FIRST SIN (38 page)

Oh, God. Donovan’s cock was inside me, filling me, stretching me before I could catch my breath. It never failed to amaze me how good he felt as he thrust. Every time with him was wild and passionate, like he couldn’t take me hard enough or fast enough. It curled my toes when I met him with my upward thrusts and felt him hit my G-spot He pushed my shirt up and sucked my nipples. “Yeah, like that.” I clenched my fingers in his hair. “More.

Please suck them more.”

Donovan stopped with his groin pressed tight against mine.

“What do you want, Agent Steele?”

I whimpered. “I want you to fuck me so hard I’ll scream loud enough to shake the walls.” Donovan loved it when I begged and talked dirty to him. And he made me beg. “Please, Donovan.”

The way he drove in and out of me, pistoning his hips, I don’t think he could have stopped if he tried. His clothing felt so good against my naked flesh as he rubbed me in all the right places.

My orgasm was so fabulous that I did cry out, and the walls did seem to rock.

Donovan groaned his release, his j cock pulsing inside me. < I remained lying on the floor, looking up at him as he tossed the spent condom into a wastebasket. I was amazed at how big his cock still was.

Even more amazing was that he stripped out of his clothing, sheathed his cock again, and was inside me in seconds. j He fucked me like he had to release every demon inside him to be whole again.

And I welcomed him.

May 11

Saturday morning

The itching going on under my cast was going to drive me out of my friggin’

mind as I packed. Cast would be off in a week. Could. Not. Wait. What a long four weeks since Cabot had broken my arm.

My fillings were going to fall out if I didn’t stop grinding my teeth every time I thought of that SOB. How much time since he’d gotten away? Too long. The leads we had managed to turn up went absolutely nowhere. And it was pissing me off, big-time.

But we did know an auction was going down soon.

Tick tock.

My Red Sox nightshirt went into my case first, followed by the shorts, jeans, bikini panties, and everything else. Home sounded so good. My own bed, my own kitchen, my own mess.

Pecan Sandies and Mountain Dew, here I come.

It had been two weeks since the end of Kristin’s captivity. She would be returning home from the medical center tomorrow and I didn’t want to be in the way.

At least it looked like she was going to come through better than a lot of women would. Mentally scarred, but she was tough, a lot like her brother.

She was a realist, and a graduate student in psychology. She knew she couldn’t escape unscathed, and the trauma would take her a long time to get past. And she might never fully heal mentally. There was no denying the fact, though, that everything had changed for her. To know what to expect wasn’t the same as actually living it.

I don’t think Donovan could have been happier that she would be back, or more scared to have her coming home—like she might break in his care.

Like I said, since Kristin was returning, I didn’t want to be in the way when she got home.

And I missed my own place.

Dixie peered into the room, gave a loud meow, and turned away with her head in the air. I wasn’t sure if she approved or disapproved of my leaving.

Just as I gathered all my stuff together—and had proudly done it one-handed—the front door opened and closed with a loud thump. Then heavy footsteps thudded down the hallway and to the door.

Donovan came to me and wrapped his arms around me.

“Stay a little while longer,” he said for the tenth time. “You don’t have to say it’s because you’ll miss our fabulous sex,” I said.

“Lexi—“

I leaned into him and wrapped my good arm around him.

“I just need to be home, okay?”

“Lexi—“

‘Take me home.”

He heaved a deep sigh that I felt all the way through my body. “I’ll carry your stuff.”

May 19

Sunday afternoon

The peeling skin on my formerly broken forearm flaked off as I scratched.

Okay, gross, but it friggin’ itched. It was so good to have that cast off that I’d take the itching any day.

Besides, it was my place and I had a vacuum cleaner.

Somewhere.

A week after I’d left Donovan’s, I’d settled into my old routine. It felt good.

Still, I missed seeing the big jerk every day—and the awesome frequent sex.

I almost dropped the bowl of freshly nuked popcorn and two bottles of Guinness when someone banged on my front door. The Red Sox pregame blared from my little TV on the back balcony.

Damnit. I was all set to kick back and enjoy some time with a bunch of my neighbors who’d be on their balconies, too. Ugh. This had better be good.

I set the popcorn and Guinness on the coffee table and kicked aside a pair of socks I’d stripped out of the night before. When I got an eyeful through my peephole of who was on the other side, I grinned. Yeah, it was good all right.

Real good.

The chain rattled as I slid it across, and the bolt clicked when I unlocked it.

The knob turned before I even had a chance to do it myself and Donovan pushed the door open. Somehow he managed to slam the door shut and grab me for a hard kiss at the same time. I climbed him, wrapping my thighs around his hips, and held onto his broad shoulders with my palms. He grasped my butt cheeks with his large hands and held me tight to him.

“Mmmm.” I tipped my head back as he moved his lips along my jawline. “I like,” I said as his erection pressed between my thighs.

“Floor or bedroom?” Donovan said in a throaty growl as he worked his lips down my throat to the gap in my Red Sox jersey.

“Balcony.”

That got his attention.

He raised his head and met my gaze.

“Hey, I don’t want to miss the game.” I brought my lips to his ear. “We’re going to kick some Yankee butt.”

Donovan quirked his mouth in that adorable way. Although I’m not so sure he’d like the word “adorable” associated with him.

A very naughty glint was in his eyes. “The Red Sox won’t even score.”

“Blasphemy!” I slugged his biceps and slid down his body until I was standing again. “You know how to live dangerously, Agent Donovan.”

He brought me tight again for a hard kiss, but I placed my palms on his chest and shoved him back. Not an easy feat when my lips wanted to stay glued to him. I headed toward the coffee table. ‘Twenty-five on the Sox.” “You’re on,”

he said, and slapped my backside when I bent over to pick up the bowl of popcorn and Guinness. A bottle chilled my palm and I shoved it into his hands when I turned around. “Make yourself useful.” “I can think of lots of ways to make myself useful.” He had a wicked expression that almost made me want to forget the baseball game and play a little catch with Donovan.

“Forget it.” That was not so easy to say. I walked past him and headed toward the balcony. “There are more important things, you know.”

“Why tease ourselves, Steele?” He grabbed one of my ass cheeks with his hand as we crossed the threshold onto my balcony. “The Yanks are going to win anyway.” “This popcorn and that Guinness are going to look so good all over your clothes.” I raised the bowl as I faced him and glared.

He lifted his free hand in a gesture of surrender. “We’ll just wait until you’re forking over that twenty-five.” I narrowed my eyes and increased my glare, but he pulled up a chair in front of the small TV on my balcony and kicked back, with his ankles crossed and his fingers laced behind his head.

The seat next to him was the most comfortable so I had to sit in it, of course.

Mmmm, smelled so good out here. A clean breeze, grilled hot dogs, sun-dried laundry.

My neighbors were already shouting at their screens. “Heya, Lex,” Jerry yelled across the alleyway, through the laundry hanging on the clotheslines between us. A couple of other neighbors shouted to me, too, and I yelled back at them. The wood railing was rough under my palms as I leaned over the balcony, looked down at the first level, and waved at Marty. When I sat again, I glanced at Donovan, who looked both intrigued and a little amused.

I kicked his shin.

Forget Donovan. Time for the game.

Yeah, nothing like watching “the boys” on a Sunday afternoon and shouting at every good or bad play along with my neighbors across and down the back alleyway. Wasn’t long before popcorn was all over my balcony from jumping up with every wicked good play the Sox made. Donovan and I downed a couple of bottles of Guinness each. Halfway through the game my voice was hoarse from yelling at the umps, who’d made a ridiculous number of bad calls as far as us Red Sox fans were concerned. During the seventh-inning stretch I wanted to punch Donovan again for looking so smug with the home game at zero-two, Yankees.

“I could rat you out, you know.” I leaned close enough to catch the masculine, spicy scent that made me want to climb all over him again. And stay there.

“I’d have Jerry and the rest here in seconds if they found out you’re a Yankees fan.” Donovan grabbed my waist and pulled me onto his lap, knocking my chair onto the balcony with a loud thump. He cupped the back of my head and kissed me. Mmmm. What game?

Something vibrated between us. Ooh, that felt good. He moved his lips from mine, but didn’t take his gaze off my mouth as he fumbled between us before drawing out his cell phone.

“Donovan.” The irritation in his voice made me smile. He obviously liked being interrupted about as much as I did.

Uh-oh. His expression and his voice hardened. “Steele and I will be there in fifteen minutes. Have all teams ready, but don’t make a move till we get there. Unless necessary.” My heartbeat picked up. Something big was going down, no doubt about it.

Donovan snapped his phone shut and stuffed it back into its clip on his belt.

He rose and set me on my feet. “The van came back to the Diamond Castle and made a ‘pickup.’ I’ll fill you in on the way.”

First thing. Donovan called each member of his special special team while he locked up. I snatched my always ready duffel with my raid gear and weapons.

After we got into the SUV and took off I strapped on my Kevlar vest and armed myself in every way possible.

May 19

Sunday evening

“A suite in the financial district?” I almost laughed, even though it wasn’t a damned bit funny. “Only the best for Cabot. It’s got him written all over it.”

Donovan and I were hidden in the darkness as we looked up at an office building on Franklin Street, in Boston’s financial district. Donovan’s special team was around us somewhere—who knew. Ghosts and Shadows. The ten-story building across the street housed multiple businesses—law firms, insurance agencies, investment offices, real estate brokerages, software companies . . . and sex slave auctions?

Takamoto spoke over the comm. “The surveillance team that’s been staking out the Glass House spotted the van when it drove up behind the nightclub.”

The comm was clear, with no static as he continued. “One of the suspects was seen taking the woman from the nightclub, and our agents picked up some of the conversation. The men mentioned bringing the woman directly to the auction tonight rather than to a hold. Anxious buyers.” Hearing Takamoto’s words brought back all of the sexual and mental abuse Kristin had been through after being auctioned by men like these. It would be so easy to put a bullet between the eyes of every single bastard involved in the slave ring.

And bitch. I hoped that woman we’d overheard at the Glass House auction was here because, if she gave me an excuse, I’d take her out, too.

I had to find out who killed Randolph and make them pay. “The van drove directly to this office building and parked in the lowest level of the garage,”

Takamoto went on in a professional tone. “Van has different plates, but when we checked it out, the dents, scratches, and all other markings on it are identical.”

“Just received verification,” Donovan said into his RED comm. “My men went on recon ten minutes after notification. Top floor is completely dark from the outside but activity inside behind heavy drapes. One naked, bound victim spotted.”

Donovan had a sharp bite to his tone, but satisfaction.

“We’re going to take out every sonofabitch involved.”

Takamoto said, “Ready at your word.”

All teams checked in. Green Team was in position on top of the building.

Yellow Team covered every fire escape and door shown on the building schematics pulled up on the computer systems in RED’s surveillance van.

Orange team had the parking garage. Blue Team was all over the stairwells and elevators. We’d brought in Purple Team to make sure air ducts and any other possible escape routes shown on the schematic were covered.

Donovan and I, along with Red Team—which was the largest team—were taking the tenth floor. Donovan’s men were there already since they’d gone ahead for recon. The agents’ boots barely made a shuffling sound as we jogged across the tile to the doors leading to the stairs. Blue team had already secured the night guard. Red Team jogged up the stairs to the top floor, not a hitch in our steps. Blood surged in my veins, kicked up by the adrenaline pumping through my body. I wasn’t even winded when we reached the tenth floor. One agent checked the hallway outside the door to the stairs, then gave us the “clear” signal. Cabot, be here, because your ass is mine. Still didn’t know where Donovan’s men were, but they were around, no doubt about it.

The stairwell had led us to a hallway that took us directly to a luxurious reception area. By the large gold-lettered script across the glass behind the desk, this operation had a modeling agency as a cover. Well, what do you know. A modeling agency specializing in private auctions.

Only that part wasn’t mentioned.

It was dark in the reception area, but dim light filtered through curtains behind the glass doors to either side of the enormous half-moon desk.

Donovan and half the Red Team took the right door while I led the other half of the team to the left.