Into the Fury (BOSS, Inc. #1)(89)

Ethan took the hot kiss deeper, made it wetter, then he was pressing her back against the wall, reaching for the buttons on her jeans. She shoved his hands away and unbuttoned them for him. Toed off her sneakers, pushed her jeans and panties down to the floor and kicked them away.

Careful not to hurt her arm, Ethan lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. His lips were hot as they moved over hers, plundering her mouth, making her burn. She heard the buzz of his zipper sliding down, knew he was freeing himself, and a fresh wave of heat pulsed through her. He was big and hard, and she knew how good it would feel to have him inside her.

“I could have lost you,” he said, stroking her with a big talented hand, sending soft heat into her core. “I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“You won’t lose me.” She prayed it was a promise she could somehow keep.

“I need you, honey.” Filling her slowly, he took her, joining them in a different, special way. For an instant, he held himself back. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, baby, I swear it.” Then he kissed her and started to move.

Deep, driving thrusts sent heat burning through her. Slow, erotic strokes pushed her toward the edge. Pleasure rose, fierce and wild. Ethan gripped her hips, holding her in place as he took her, lost himself inside her. She wanted to give him this, wanted to lighten his burden, to let him know how much he meant to her.

With a soft moan, she picked up the rhythm, moving with each of his thrusts, bringing him closer, absorbing some of his pain. Giving him the comfort he so desperately needed.

The pounding increased, along with her own sweet pleasure. Her sex tightened around him as he drove her higher, nearer the peak. Reaching the crest, she tipped over into climax and cried out his name, slid into deep, saturating pleasure.

Moments later, Ethan followed, his muscles tightening, his head going back, the cords flexing in his powerful neck and shoulders.

For seconds they clung to each other. Ethan pressed a last soft kiss on her mouth, but he didn’t pull away. She’d needed this as much as he, she realized as they continued to spiral down. Needed proof they were both okay. Needed to believe they would find a way out.

Maybe even find a way to each other.





Ethan stood at Val’s front door, surveying the area around the house as they prepared to leave. He waved at the officers sitting in their patrol cars.

“All clear,” he said to her. “Time to go.” The Jeep was in the driveway, the key in the ignition. Their suitcases were packed and loaded into the back. Mrs. O. had volunteered to take care of Snoozie again.

Val joined him in the doorway. Ethan took a last look around, spotted four cars coming in their direction, eased her back inside and stepped in out of sight. Since they were four of the least threatening vehicles he had possibly ever seen, his heart rate returned to normal. He came out of protection mode and watched as the cars approached.

Joe Posey, in an older-model Ford, rolled his window down and waved. Ethan waved back, giving the cops in the patrol cars the all-clear signal. Behind Joe, a white Ford Fusion pulled up and Sandy Sandowski climbed out. Walt Wizzy unwound his long, bony frame from a little silver Prius he could barely fit into.

Last but not least, the red-and-white, lowered ’56 Chevy Pete Hernandez drove pulled up to the house, the muffler overly loud in the quiet street.

“I guess we aren’t leaving just yet,” Val said with a grin as the men walked toward them.

Ethan flashed her an amused glance touched with a remnant of heat. “Good thing they didn’t show up a few minutes sooner.”

Val’s cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink.

“Joe’s got a police scanner,” Pete explained as he climbed the porch steps, half a foot shorter than Walt, who ascended the steps right behind him. “Joe heard the call come in and remembered Val’s address from when the media was here after the Larsen murder.”

“Joe phoned and filled us in,” Walt added. “We thought you might need some help.”

Ethan nodded. “Appreciate it. Come on in.”

Now that the fashion show tour was over, La Belle had let its temporary security team go but kept Beau Desmond and its full-time crew in place. Ethan was still working the murder investigation, but after today’s shooting, he was off the grid till this was over. So was Valentine Hart.

They all settled in the living room. “We don’t have much time,” Ethan said. “We need to get somewhere safe.” He debated telling the men where he planned to hole-up, but he had been working with them for weeks. He trusted them completely.

“I’ll be taking Val to Dirk’s place. If you’re serious about helping, I could use some backup.”

“Serious as a heart attack,” Joe said. “Just tell us what you need us to do.”

After a little back and forth, Ethan laid it out. He figured six-hour rotating shifts. They would need to be careful not to be followed to and from the location, but if the shooter found a way to track him and Val to the safe house, with a lookout in place outside, they’d have a chance of spotting him, arresting him, or taking him out.

Maybe they could make this end.

“We’ll try it for a couple of days and hope a lead will break.”

“Sounds good,” Joe said. Once the plan was set, Ethan went out to the Jeep to retrieve the burner phone he kept in his glove box. He programmed in their numbers, then the men programmed the throwaway’s number into their own phones.