Wild Card (15 page)

professional. Hell, Belle, didn't you feel just a little guilty, lying to your husband like that?"

She hadn't. Nathan had needed to take care of her while he was with her. She had needed that

single-minded focus he had given her between missions. Would it have changed as their

marriage progressed? She had no doubt it would have. But the two years they had been

together, it hadn't mattered. Working on cars wasn't her life's work. She might have enjoyed it,

but she enjoyed Nathan more. While he was on missions, she tinkered on her own car,

sometimes she tinkered with his precious truck.

"I never lied to my husband," she answered him quietly. "And I never lied to you about how I felt. I told you I didn't want what you obviously wanted from me. I told you that a year ago and

I've repeated it, several times."

"But you do want it from that shiftless son of a bitch that stinks of oil and grease?" he snarled.

Sabella stared back at him, her own anger rising now. "I think we've both pretty much accepted

the fact that's one of my favorite scents."

"No shit," he snarled. "You stink of it continually. Maybe I'm sick of smelling the stuff while I'm trying to eat my dinner."

She had never seen this side of Duncan, had never suspected it existed.

"You thought you were getting Nathan's wife." A bitter smile curled her lips. "The little woman that sat at home and, you thought, did as she was told." Sabella shook her head. "You didn't

live in this house, Duncan. You have no idea how little I did that Nathan tried to order me to

do. And it's more than obvious that you never cared to see beyond the surface."

He flicked her a furious look before turning and pacing to the window.

"Get rid of him!" He turned back to her, his voice strengthening, turning hard and cold. "Fire him, Sabella."

Her brows arched. "Rory hired him, I can't fire him. But I wouldn't now simply because I don't

follow anyone's orders, Duncan, least of all yours."

"Get rid of that bastard or you'll end up regretting it." His expression twisted into lines of bitter fury. "He's dangerous. You can see it in his face and in his eyes. That's the only reason you

want him and you don't have the good sense to see it. He's just as dangerous as Nathan was."

"Leave." Sabella straightened slowly, edging closer to the phone as Duncan glared at her. "I want you to leave right now, Duncan."

"Because you can't handle the truth?"

Suddenly, he wasn't nearly as handsome as she had once thought he was, not that handsome

was one of her requirements. But Duncan had always appeared sophisticated, possessing an

almost male elegance that was now marred by a severe temper tantrum.

"Because you're out of hand." She picked up the phone and stared back at him. "Leave."

He glanced at the phone. "Go ahead and call the son of a bitch," he told her. "Go on, Belle, I dare you. How much you want to bet he's not even there. He's out screwing someone else

because you're not woman enough to hold a man at the house. Not a man like Nathan and sure

as hell not a drifter like Noah Blake."

That should have hurt, Sabella admitted. It should have, but she knew better. She had married a

SEAL, not an accountant. She had known when she married her SEAL what she was getting.

There were no guarantees and she had lost early in the game.

"Then you won't mind walking out, will you?" she told him coldly.

"Like hell!" He surprised her when he moved for her. When she finally realized Duncan was

more furious than she thought, it was too late.

She had hit the first digit of 911 when the phone went flying from her hand. She threw herself

back, trying to evade the hand that attempted to latch on to her wrist.

Just as his fingers curled around her flesh, she heard a furious growl, and a larger, broader,

darker hand latched onto Duncan's wrist and, before Sabella's shocked gaze, bent his wrist back

and twisted it so that Duncan went to his knees with an almost girlish cry.

Noah was icy. Sabella stared at him in shock, taking in the T-shirt and leather vest, the faded

jeans and black chaps. The motorcycle boots and the chiseled, emotionless expression.

If she didn't do something, then Duncan was a dead man. The icy rage went deeper this time

than when Noah had had his hand around Mike Conrad's neck.

"Noah. I'm getting tired of you manhandling men around me," she told him firmly, no anger,

just a simple observation. "I could have hit him myself, you know?"

His gaze turned to her as Duncan gasped at his feet.

"Let him go." She wrinkled her nose at him as she had done with Nathan the few times she had

seen him really pissed. "He's not worth getting blood on my floors. That would really make me

angry."

"I know how to get rid of the body," he told her, his gaze flicking over the T-shirt and shorts she wore. "It wouldn't be hard to do."

"Yeah, but then I'd have to feel guilty and I'd have to tell Rory. Of course." She shrugged as

though it didn't matter. "I could use it as an excuse to get Rory to fire you."

"He'd help me," Noah promised her, but there was the barest hint of a crack in the ice. "And you're playing games to get me to let him go. What do you really want to say, Sabella?"

"That you're being a damned moron and I want you to let him go before I have to kick both of

you out of my house and call the sheriff," she yelled back at him, letting the mad show, because

she was sick of dealing with thick-headed males.

His brow lifted.

"Let him go, dammit." She picked up the phone then hung up again as she shot both of them a

disgusted look. At least Noah's grip on Duncan had eased. "He's going to puke if you don't and

I don't want to clean it up."

Duncan had that look on his face. Of course, the pressure on his wrist had to be agonizing, and

Noah was holding it there as though it were no effort at all.

He let him go slowly.

"Get the fuck out." Noah stepped back as Duncan struggled to his feet.

Duncan's shirt was wrinkled now, his slacks might even have been a little damp at the crotch,

but she didn't bother to look.

She felt as though she were going to throw up herself as Duncan rushed from the house. Noah

followed him as far as the door, slammed it closed then stalked back into the kitchen.

Hands propped on the counter, Sabella lowered her head and fought the hurt and anger

churning inside her. Damn. She'd liked Duncan. And she could have sworn she had discussed

all those irritating little subjects like love and sex and her reasons why she wasn't ready.

"You should have never let him in the house." Noah stopped in front of the counter. "For God's sake, Sabella, I thought you would know better than to confront that son of a bitch while you're

carrying my mark."

She kept her head down. How many times had she laughed at Nathan when he had said

something similar? When he had been irritated with her, or was just being a man.

She should have known better than to go four-wheeling with Sienna that first year they were

married, without him, because when she wrecked, she wrenched her ankle and he hadn't been

there to make sure she was okay. She should have known better than to try to fix a busted pipe

in the basement on her own, because she'd ended up drenched and the basement had gotten wet.

So many instances. And she should have always known better.

She lifted her head. "Now you can leave. You should know better than to piss off an already

angry woman."

She should have known better than to give Rory a say in the hiring.

"Sabella, sweetheart, look at me." His voice roughened. "If he had hurt you, I would have had to kill him. I would have enjoyed killing him."

"And it would have been my fault." She nodded with a bitter smile. "Sure, I understand."

"No, it would been his fault for being stupid enough to touch you. But haven't you figured out

yet that men aren't always smart enough to keep their hands off things that don't belong to

them?"

Her head jerked up in surprise. "So you think I belong to you now?"

She didn't flinch when he reached out to touch her. Over the years, she had always had to

suppress a flinch when another man tried to stroke her, kiss her.

"You don't belong to him," he told her, his fingertip stroking over the rasp of his beard that he had left on her jaw. "Testosterone is a dangerous thing sometimes. You should have waited to

talk to him."

At least Noah sounded reasonable, and he was right. She knew he was right. She had thought

Duncan understood. She had imagined he had accepted that she couldn't give him the things he

wanted.

"He'll get over it," she finally breathed out roughly. "But I really think you should leave now too. I'm tired."

She moved around the counter to lead him to the front door, only to feel his arm curling around

her, pulling her against his hard body as she stared up at him in surprise.

"You ran from him," he told her. "You know you're safe with me. Admit it."

"I was safe with him," she told him quietly. "I'm not a moron, Noah. I know how to protect myself. And I will, when I have to."

"Then prove it." That gravelly, rough voice was a dark croon. "Try to get away from me,

Sabella."

She almost laughed at the challenge. She would have, except something inside her was

burning, begging, pressing closer to him as he lifted her against him.

"You want me," he stated roughly.

"I don't want to want you," she whispered back painfully. "Because he was right about one

thing. You're dangerous. Too dangerous and too dark for what I need. If I had a brain in my

head, I'd have made certain you were gone a week ago."

"You have plenty of brains." His head lowered, his lips feathered against hers. "Enough brains to know whose arms you belong in. Enough to know where you're safe."

Noah wasn't fighting it. He knew now wasn't the time to take her. Her common sense would

kick back in, she would blame them both when morning came, but the adrenaline was racing

through him. The mix of whore's dust and lust was torturing his cock, filling it with blood as

his balls felt tortured between his thighs.

It had been over six years since he had taken his wife, since he had known the tight grip of her

hot, sweet pussy. Since he had devoured her, licked her from head to toe, and heard her

screams for more echoing in his head.

All he knew now was the hunger. A hunger that clawed at him, that had him lifting her into his

arms as he claimed her lips. Slanting his against them, his tongue pushing inside, tasting her,

the sweet, delicate taste of passion and woman and the wine.

He wanted to pour that wine over her body and lick it off her. He wanted to watch it stream

over her pussy and bury his lips between her thighs to consume it. He wanted to be drunk on

her, drunk on the lust and the need and a pleasure he had never been able to forget. Never been

able to escape.

"God, the taste of you," he groaned, sipping at her lips as her head fell back, her hands pressing to the back of his head, tunneling into his hair.

Oh, he knew what she wanted. A hard smile tugged at his lips as he let his beard rake over her

neck, felt her shudder as he lifted her.

Noah set her on the counter before moving between her thighs. The thin shorts did nothing to

protect her from the hard, denim-covered length of his cock. Pressing against her, he swore he

felt the heat and dampness of her. Remembered how tight her grip was, how that sweet sheath

rippled and hugged him.

Her moans were like fuel poured to the fire raging inside him. He tasted her neck with his

tongue, gave her the caress of the rasp of his beard and felt her grinding against him.

No sheriff to stop them now.

His hands lowered to her top. She wasn't wearing a bra beneath the loose T-shirt. Her pretty

breasts were unbound, nipples hard and hot. And he wanted to taste. Needed to taste.

Sabella moaned, cried out at the sensations racing through her body. They were wicked, carnal,

so intense she couldn't think, didn't want to think. The rasp of his beard was a dark pleasure, his

kiss like a potent wine. He made her head spin, sent her senses reeling and her heart

hammering in her chest.

And she needed more. She needed his touch. As his hands slid beneath her T-shirt she pressed

closer, begging silently for his callused palms against her nipples, because she needed now as

she never had. As she had only needed with one man, and the need now was brighter, stronger,

and dug its claws deeper inside her.

She wanted Noah Blake more than she could ever remember needing her own husband.

Fear sliced through her. Shock. Fury. Fury at herself as well as Noah.

It took everything she had, every measure of inner strength, to jerk back and force him to

release her, to jump from the counter and stumble away from him.

"This is what I should know not to do." She placed several feet between them. "This is exactly what I don't need. Now, please, just get the hell away from me. Just go, before I end up doing

something we'll both end up regretting."

Noah stared back at her for long moments. He could have her, so easily. Touch her, hold her,

ease some of that pain in her eyes. And he wanted to, needed to.

God help him, what had he done to his wife? She was standing before him, staring at him as

though he were her destruction rather than a man she ached for, longed for. And he could see

the guilt in her. The guilt that another man could make her respond, that another man could