Deadly Silence (Blood Brothers #1)(18)
“Baby, I’ve been fuckin’ you for months. That gives me every right.” Anger glowed dark in his eyes.
“We’re done. Get out.”
His eyes softened. “You shouldn’t make statements you can’t back up.”
She shoved against his ripped abs.
He didn’t move a millimeter.
And then he did.
His head dipped, and his mouth found her neck and wandered up to her ear. His teeth scraped, and then his tongue licked the slight wound.
Of its own volition, her body did a full tremble.
He leaned back. “That.”
Her mind fuzzed.
His mouth slammed down on hers. She knew his kiss—often dreamed about it. Not soft and sweet . . . not even lustful. It was dangerous. From day one, she’d tasted danger on his tongue, and it burned her hotter than she’d ever been.
Never had she dated a bad boy, but after living her desired routine-driven life for years, she’d craved adventure, and he filled that need. He drew out a wildness she hadn’t realized she possessed.
He held her flush against the door, kissing her hard, sending a craving along her nerves that almost hurt. His tongue went to work, his left hand keeping her jaw open for him. His right hand found her hip and dragged her against the obvious bulge in his jeans. By the time he released her, she’d stopped thinking completely.
“What time are you finished today?” he asked, his breath heating her face.
“Fi-five,” she stuttered.
He leaned back and gently put her to the side. “Stay in the office until I come for you at five, Zara.” He ran his thumb across her bottom lip. “Cross me on this, baby, and I ain’t gonna be gentle.” He had already shut the door behind himself before she could take a whole breath.
She blinked several times, her fingers going to her still-tingling mouth. What had just happened?
CHAPTER
6
Ryker pulled up to the business just as Heath finished scraping off the last of the logo on the front window. “Thanks for letting me borrow the Hemi,” Ryker said, tossing the keys to his brother. Life, not genetics, had made them family, and he’d die for either Heath or Denver.
“No problem.” Heath wiped the window with a clean cloth, his jeans nearly threadbare beneath a tattered Grateful Dead T-shirt. His movements barely contained his fury as he waited for something to break in the serial killer case.
“You do not look like a lawyer.”
Heath turned, his eyes sober. “I’m not a lawyer. Well, I am, but I don’t want to practice law. I just have the degree to get us out of trouble when it comes knocking.”
Sometimes Ryker saw in Heath the angry and scared-shitless kid he’d met at Lost Springs so many years ago, determined to fight any bully who threatened him, no matter how big the bully. “Even so, now that we have this place, you should probably get some clothes.”
Heath glanced down at his torn jeans. “Why?”
Ryker opened his mouth and shut it again. “I don’t know. I mean, don’t people who have dressers buy shit to put in them?”
Heath’s eyebrows rose. “We don’t have dressers.”
Oh yeah. “I guess we should get some?”
Heath leaned in. “I don’t know why. We’ll be out of here as soon as we find the fucker killing redheads. I mean, if Denver gets the bug for nesting out of his ass.”
“That ain’t it with Den.”
“Then what is it?”
Ryker rubbed the scruff on his jaw. He should probably shave at some point. “He’s running from Alaska, and he’s trying to convince himself that he needs to stay here.” Probably to keep himself from hurrying back to Noni.
“Do you think he’s really done with her?”
“No.” Crisp and cutting, the wind scattered dead leaves across his boots. “But he has to make that decision himself.”
Heath nodded. “He had a splash of coffee with his booze today, by the way.”
Ryker scrubbed both hands down his face, jostling his aviator sunglasses. “I can’t really criticize him there. Pot and kettle, you know.”
“Yep. Just something to watch.” Heath moved off the step and headed for his car. “He has info for you on your girl, and I’m chasing down a lead on the Copper Killer case. I need to do something, anything, so I’m going to talk to some folks from the first victim’s circle.”
Ryker wanted to go with him, but he needed to figure out Zara’s problems first. “Is your head on straight?”
Heath paused. “I think so.”
Ryker studied him. Heath lost himself in cases, especially in the impossible ones. Always trying to fix broken wings. “Stay in contact and stay safe. What about Zara?”
Heath’s jaw hardened. “She paid for three nights at the Lonely Trail Motel outside of town last week.”
“Motel?” Ryker asked, his gut clenching.
“Yep. Told you this wasn’t going to end well.” Heath opened the car door and slipped inside, his flippant words contrasting with the very real concern in his eyes. “I can handle only one of you falling apart at a time, and your turn is over.”
Ryker nodded, his chest filling. “Understood.”
Heath started the engine and sped down the quiet road, the Hemi making a badass statement even in quiet mode.