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Jett looked from the locked front door to the hallway and back to the locked front door. He’d installed those deadbolts. He knew how strong they were. The chance of anyone finding them was minuscule at best and he wouldn’t be distracted for long.
Five minutes, ten, fifteen if he got carried away.
My goal is to have an orgasm as soon as possible...
He couldn’t possibly be thinking of, he wasn’t seriously contemplating, taking her up on her offer.
Stupid move, Smith-Jones, stupid, stupid move. You’re alone, you have no backup, you are three floors up...
It’s a coded building. It’s in the middle of the day. If he didn’t take the edge off, if they both didn’t, he’d be less than useless for the rest of the evening. He had to get Sam to and from Stone’s house in Lenox Hill and that meant he had to have his wits about him.
But he wouldn’t be able to think clearly if his dick was jumping up and down screaming it wanted some action. And it really, really wanted some action.
And is this about you or her, asshat? Both, Jett reluctantly admitted. He wanted her and Sam had told him, a few times, that she wanted him. It wouldn’t do them any harm and if getting their rocks off pulled their heads back into the game, he was all for it.
He couldn’t believe he was justifying having sex to keep his concentration. How far the mighty had fallen.
Jett sent another look at the door and eyed Gemma’s furniture. A couch, a chair, both were too unsubstantial but the bookcase might work as another barrier. Walking across the room, he pushed his shoulder into the heavy wooden bookcase and grunted, pushing the book stuffed shelves across the floor. A couple of paperbacks fell onto the floor with a loud clatter but he made steady progress across the floor.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Jett flicked a look over his shoulder to see Sam in the hallway, her face puzzled.
What the hell did it look like he was doing? Planting flowers? “Pushing the bookcase against the door.”
“Why?”
He sent her a this-isn’t-rocket-science look. “It’s the only entrance and if someone gets past the locks or kicks the door in, they have another barrier to get past before they get to you,” Jett grunted in response. “It will also serve as an early warning system.”
“Okay. Again, why?”
Jett gave a final push and saw that the bookcase covered the door. He nodded, satisfied before turning to look at Sam. “Because I’m going to be a bit distracted for an hour or so. And, after that, I’m going to need to sleep.”
Sam leaned her shoulder into the wall and her lips curved up in a sultry smile. “What’s going to be distracting you, Legend?”
As if she didn’t know. He squinted at her again before stalking over to clasp her face in his hands, tipping her jaw up with his thumbs. “Playing it coy, Red? By the way, that was one hell of an exit line.”
Sam’s eyes locked on his. “I thought so.”
“You sure you want to do this?”
Sam held his wrists and Jett noticed her shallow breaths and the flush climbing up her neck. “I really am. I need you to kiss me, touch me... intensely, endlessly so I forget my own name. Can you do that, Jett?”
“I sure as hell can try.” Jett moved his hand to hold the back of her neck, wrapping a hunk of hair around his fist. His mouth fell onto hers and his heart settled and sighed. Her mouth tasted sweet and spicy and when his tongue touched hers, a burst of heat rocketed down his spine.
This was passion, this was attraction, this was flat out desire. It was more than sex or lust. Kissing Sam, exploring the inches of skin that made her unique, she went beyond simple biology.
This was need, this was addiction... this just was.
Jett ran his fingers down the cords of her neck, over her shoulders and down her rib cage. He needed skin and he needed it now. Gripping a fistful of cotton, he pulled her shirt up her chest, only yanking his mouth from hers when the shirt was up by her chin. When a blast of cool air hit his abs, Jett realized his shirt was coming off too and, to speed the process along, he grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked it over his head, dropping his eyes to take a look at Sam’s braless chest.
Her breasts were small but perky, her nipples the lush pink of a true redhead. Unable to wait, he ducked down to suck one of those pretty beads into his mouth, his tongue swirling. Nipping gently, he smiled at Sam’s deep-in-her-throat groan and transferred his attention to the other breast, his hands on the warm skin of her waist. She was slim but willow strong.
Sam’s hands stroked his shoulders, danced over the knobs of his spine, skated down his chest. She wanted him as much as he did her and the thought nearly stopped his heart in his chest. Samantha Stone wanted him. It was enough to make his head spin.
Jett placed his hands under her butt and boosted her up. Her legs wound around his hips, settling her core against his hard, about to explode cock. He could feel her intense heat through the barrier of her clothes. Jett walked her so she was resting against the nearest wall and pinned her there by pushing his hips into hers, her back flat against the wall.
“Need you,” Jett muttered, sucking on her lower lip.
Sam wiggled her hips and groaned, “Feels so good.”
“It’s gonna feel better, babe,” Jett muttered, shoving a hand into the fabric of her pants to push them down her hips. “Shit, I’m going to have to let you go.”
Jett allowed her legs to drop to the floor and Sam helped him shuck her pants, chanting at him to hurry up. Her small hands tangled with his to open the buttons on his jeans and, because she was more hindrance than help, he swatted her hands away. His speed had nothing to do with his military training and everything to do with the need to slide inside of Sam, branding her, making her his.
As soon as he was naked, Sam wound her arms around his neck and boosted herself up his body, sure in the belief he would catch her. And then the juncture of her thighs slammed into his throbbing cock and they both froze, the intimate connection stopping them in their tracks. His eyes connected with her shades of gray-violet-blue and he fell, head-over-ass, into her soul.
Jett took a moment to just look, to feel, to absorb. Years ago he’d made a decision that it was okay to die for his country, for the people who made up the cultural melting pot that was his home. He’d die to protect their freedom, would kill to keep their way of life.
But, for the first time, in far too long, he wanted to feel, to really live. He wanted to explore every facet of this woman, to discover the rough edges and smooth, her fears and strengths. He wanted to see her being silly, being sad, hold her in good times and bad.
He wanted to live, for and with, Sam.
Oh...
Oh, shit.
“Is there a reason you’ve stopped?” Sam asked, her voice laced with impatience and need. She tipped her hips to slide her hot heat against him and bursts of pleasure scorched his skin.
He wanted to tell her he was having a Damascus moment, a not-very-minor revelation. Words, hot and heavy and binding, hovered on his lips and he swallowed them down, unable to look away from her, a little dizzy, a lot confused.
How the hell had this happened? And why?
Sam’s fingers touched his mouth and she frowned. “Earth to Jett?”
“Yeah?”
Sam traced his bottom lip with her thumb. “We need a condom. Got any handy?”
Jett groaned as her words sunk in. No, he didn’t. Sexual protection had been the last thing he’d been thinking of when he whisked Sam to safety last night.
“Shit-shit-shit,” Jett muttered, his forehead on hers.
“Shit indeed,” Sam replied, tilting her hips.
“Do you want to put this on hold?” Jett asked, hoping and praying she’d be up for a little creativity.
“I’m naked, you’re naked,” Sam replied, her tone mischievous. “What do you suggest, Legend?”
Jett pulled back to allow Sam’s feet to hit the ground and he immediately dropped to his knees in front of her. Taking her hands, he positioned them so that her palms were flat against the wall and nudged her knees apart. He placed his mouth on her flat belly and she sucked in air as his tongue dipped into her belly button, taking her belly ring between his teeth. He nuzzled his nose into her skin, kissing and licking his way down, silently approving of her Brazilian wax, a tiny tuft of red at her cleft. She tipped her hips up without him having to ask and he pulled her legs apart, taking the opportunity to look at her.
“So pretty,” he murmured, sliding an exploratory finger over her, skimming her bud.
Sam jerked and Jett smiled. Yeah, that was her spot. He dipped and skated his mouth over her, his breath hot on her clit, inhaling her unique scent.
Above him Sam moaned, her thighs opening wider, her hands coming up to play with her nipples, to pinch and to pull. Jett noticed the red flush creeping over her chest, up her neck, and thought she was close. Wrapping one hand around his dick, he pushed his tongue down, slipped inside her channel before flicking it over her clit.
As he knew she would, Sam bucked and released a small scream. Pumping his own dick, he pushed two fingers into her channel and sucked her into his mouth, rolling her clit between his teeth.
He was so close to losing it but he needed her to come first, to fall apart on his tongue. Jett hooked his fingers up and in and felt her channel clench around him. He sucked her clit harder, slid his hand up and down his cock and as Sam screamed and shook, he shot his load into his hand. Ignoring his own orgasm as best as he could, he continued to love Sam, pulling every last nugget of pleasure from her. One orgasm led to another smaller shudder and he pulled his fingers from her, resting his forehead on her stomach.
Too much... Too much pleasure, too many emotions.
This was a big, fucking, glorious mistake.
Sam and Stone, as per Jett and Kelby’s instructions, stayed behind the door, in the hallway of Stone’s mansion instead of walking their old friends to their waiting taxi. That honor went to two of Jett’s “crew.” When Jett received the all clear from his guys, Jett holstered his Glock and folded his arms.
“We need to talk,” Jett said. His eyes giving no indication that they’d had XXX-rated sex—twice—earlier. In fact, if Sam hadn’t been on the receiving end of his talented tongue she would doubt it even occurred. Jett, Mr. Inscrutable, gave absolutely nothing away.
They’d had sex, dammit. Sam scowled at Jett’s broad shoulders as he led them toward Stone’s study. Intimate sex, Sam amended, because she didn’t care how blasé one was about the act, oral sex was more intimate than sex-sex. Their mouths had teased and tasted and they’d both come on each other’s tongues.
That was seriously intimate, way intimate. Far too intimate for Jett to treat her like she was his principal and he was her bodyguard.
She was his principal and he was her bodyguard and Jett was just being professional, sensible!
But she’d seen something on his face, in his eyes, when he touched and tasted her, against the wall and later in the shower, which made her heart accelerate, her mouth dry up. If she had an overactive imagination, and she didn’t, she might think it was love, or deep, deep affection. But since she was far too rational to go there, to have such ridiculous flights of fancy, maybe it had just been what it was—two consenting adults giving and receiving pleasure.
Having blow-your-socks off sex.
That was all it was, all it could be. Because Jett was the type of man she avoided, whom she could never fall for or get emotionally involved with. More than most, he was a risk taker and, so she’d heard, slightly reckless. So far, his chances had paid off but, as her father was fond of saying, there were old soldiers and bold soldiers but no old, bold soldiers.
One of these days Jett would take a chance and he’d misread the situation, or overestimate his abilities and he’d lose his life. She’d survived Pete’s death and it hurt like hell; she wasn’t prepared to relive that heartbreaking experience. Sam pushed her fist into her sternum, wincing as acid threatened to burn a hole through the lining of her stomach. She didn’t like it and the thought made her want to curl up in a ball but it was inevitable.
He was the ultimate bold soldier and she’d be an idiot to think there was anything more between them than some volcano hot sex.
“Sam!”
Sam jerked her head up at Fern’s sharp tone. “Yes?”
“Coffee or cognac?” Fern asked, looking impatient.
“Uh, a cognac, please.” Sam walked across the room to sit on the big leather couch, smiling when Will stepped into the room. “Hey, when did you get here?”
“A minute ago,” Will replied, shedding her coat to reveal a boxy black suit that should look awful on her but didn’t. Will, Sam decided two minutes after meeting her, could wear a burlap sack and look like she was dressed by a hotshot designer.
Sam accepted the kiss on her cheek and Will sat down next to her, her eyes lifting at Sam’s frothy lace and ruffles cocktail dress. “Not your usual style, Sam.”
Sam plucked at the fabric. “I know; Carla picked it out for me and dropped it off with Fern. She’s not very good at shopping for someone else.”
“She sucks,” Will said, as forthright as ever. She leaned back and half turned to look at Sam. She grinned. “So, you and Mr. Hot-but-Bossy got lucky.”
Sam slapped her hands onto her cheeks. “How the hell can you tell?” she hissed, her eyes darting around the room to see if anyone else heard Will’s outrageous statement.
Will laughed. “Lucky guess. So was it great?”
“It was fabulous,” Sam admitted, keeping her voice low. “I’m still recovering. I’m just wrapping my head around the ‘it’s-just-sex thing.’” Sam reluctantly added, “I’m not as sexually liberated as I thought.”
“You want more from him?” Will crossed her long legs, tapping the folder in her lap.
“No. Yes. Maybe. But not from him.”
Will lifted her arched eyebrows. “That made no sense at all.”
“Exactly,” Sam agreed. “Just like Jett and me.”
Stone, followed by Mary, entered the room, the ends of his tie hanging down his shirtfront. His hair was mussed from running his hands through it and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
Stone immediately walked over to her and placed his big hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Sam assured him.
Stone shook his head, a small frown pulling his strong brows together. “You look different.”
Sam heard, and ignored, Will’s muffled laugh. Resisting the urge to shove her elbow into Will’s side, she kept her eyes on Stone’s face. “Are you alright?” she asked, worried by his somber eyes.
“Apart from someone wanting us dead and using your house as target practice, I’m just peachy.”
“Oh, that little thing,” Sam said, trying to sound blasé and getting the smile she wanted from Stone.
Stone greeted the other occupants in the room, took a glass of cognac from Fern with a tired smile and, as he had a million times before, wrapped his hand around the back of Fern’s neck. Fern, as at ease with Stone as she was, tucked herself into his side.
Jett looked at Will, his expression intense. “What’s going on, Will?”
Will shook her head before sliding back in harass cop mode. Her eyes connected with Stone’s but her resolve didn’t fade. “I’m sorry, I can’t share this with you. Can we have some privacy?”
Stone looked like he was about to argue but Will spoke before he could. “I know that you have top secret security clearance but this is NYPD business.”
Stone glared at her but he eventually nodded before ushering Mary and Fern out of the room. When Kelby closed the door behind him, Will spoke again. “Last night, I did another search of VICAP and it spat out a new case. Three days ago, Wooly’s stepdaughter, Sarah Wooly’s biological daughter, was murdered. In exactly the same way except, this time, the perp went nutso. Her bathroom looked like a slaughter house.”
Kelby thrust a glass of water into Will’s hand and she took a grateful sip, resting the cool glass against her forehead.
Sam closed her eyes, pushing away the horror to focus on the facts. “If I recall, her name was Justine.”
Will sent her a hard look. “What else do you remember about her?”
Sam frowned and thought back. “Didn’t finish high school, numerous misdemeanours, a stint in prison for B&E.” Sam pulled face. “She was released just before her stepfather’s trial and I remember hearing that she was trying to turn her life around.”
“Wooly adored her, loved her to bits,” Sam added. “And she loved him. It was probably the only functional relationship in his life.”
Sam looked at Will, gesturing her to continue.
“The victim was twenty-three. She was alone in the apartment, her partner was at work. She was raped, tortured, and strangled to the edge of death and then revived. Rinse and repeat.”
Silence followed her statement, all of them trying to make sense of the horror. They wouldn’t be able to, but it was a sign of their humanity that they tried to find some sort of answer that made a little sense.
“What was her name?” Kelby asked.
“Justine Cuzin,” Will swiftly replied. “Black hair and blue eyes, short, buxom.”
Will looked down at the folder she’d opened. “She was a clerk at a vintage shop in the Village. She lived with her long time lesbian partner.”
“What, exactly, links her to the other murders?” Jett asked.
“MO, body placement, similar cuts and bite marks on the body.” Will placed a photograph of a white-faced woman wearing black lipstick on the coffee table in front of Sam. “The similarities to the other murders are obvious.”
Sam picked up Justine’s photo and flicked her nail against the corner of the photograph. “There’s one obvious difference. Justine never threatened me. All she could do, during the trial, was cry. She was devastated by what they did, what she heard. She was, despite her upbringing, a decent kid who made some stupid mistakes.”
Will stood up and jammed her hands into the pockets of her jacket, her eyes moving across the room to lock with Kelby’s. Sam watched as a silent communication passed between them and she saw Kelby’s tiny nod of encouragement. Will looked away before bending down to pull a photograph from the bottom of the pile and handing it to Sam.
Sam inhaled, mentally preparing herself to look at the crime scene. She’d seen much worse, this was just red letters on a white wall. Written in blood. The killer had taken his time to block print the words, to keep the spaces between the letters even, to wipe away smudges of blood that were out of place.
“...punishing the children for the sin of the father...”
Jett passed the photograph to Stone. “The Bible verse?”
Will nodded. “Yeah. Exodus 20:5, and the phrasing is from the New International Bible,” Will replied. “This killer is methodical, determined, precise. Beautifully printed words using a gloved hand and despite the carnage, no biological evidence was left.”
“Super organized,” Sam murmured.
“So why would this super-organized, smart, methodical killer substitute father for the original word parent? This was an act against Justine’s father, it was an act against Wooly. He couldn’t get to the man himself so he took out, possibly, the only person he really loved.”
“And Wooly threatened Sam, on numerous occasions, the last time being four days ago,” Jett stated, his eyes widening. He frowned, slapping his hands on his hips. “Come on, there’s no way he could’ve known that Wooly threatened Sam when she visited him in prison.”
“Okay, that’s a stretch,” Will conceded. “But the fact is, he threatened Sam. And often.”
Sam felt the punch to her heart and her eyes immediately sought Jett’s. He came over to sit on the arm of the couch and placed his broad hand on her back. Sam immediately felt steadier and cursed herself. She couldn’t start relying on him, for anything.
“So, he’s definitely killing people because of, or for, me?” Sam demanded, her voice high and tight.
“C’mon, Sam, you know better than that,” Will chided her. “He’s killing them for him, for what he gets out of it, and he’s using you as an excuse.”
Will gathered up the photographs, tossed them back into the file, and leaned back in the chair. “The first murder occurred eighteen months ago so something set him off. Any ideas as to what was happening in your life at that time that could’ve been the trigger?”
Sam wished Fern was here, she knew her better than anyone else and would be able to help her remember what was happening in her life then. She bobbed her shoulders. “We took a trip to Europe, Fern and I. I wasn’t dating anyone at the time, I left private practice six months before and stopped doing individual therapy to concentrate on consulting. And to start work on my research.”
“Any interviews, spotlights, TV shows?”
Sam, conscious of Jett’s warm hand, thought back. “No. But the Wooly trial was enough of a circus; I was constantly hassled by the press to do interviews.”
Jett’s fingers dug into the skin of her back. “All roads lead to Rome or, somehow, back to that asshole.”
“He’s in jail, Jett. He didn’t kill this group of people,” Will said and Sam nodded.
“But he’d like to, he didn’t make any bones about that at the jail,” Jett said, standing up. Sam turned to watch him pace the area to the left of her.
“Maybe someone is acting in his name, as his surrogate,” Will suggested. “It’s well documented that serial killers do pick up disciples.”
Sam linked her shaking hands around her knees. They were, after all, discussing a killer wanting to slice and dice her.
She thought about Will’s theory and shook her head. “Disciples tend to mirror the original crimes. And why target people who’ve only insulted me?” Sam asked. “For every person who cursed me, there were ten who supported me, thanked me for the part I played in bringing the killer of their loved ones to justice.”
Jett narrowed his eyes, silently asking for an explanation, for her to keep talking.
“He’s eliminating the people who hurt me. He doesn’t want to kill me,” Sam said, “he wants to keep me.”
“What the fuck—”
Sam clasped her shaking hands together. She couldn’t look at Jett, couldn’t see her fear reflected in his eyes. Because she was relying on him to keep her safe and if he showed fear, she would crawl into a hole and howl.
Sam looked at Kelby, thankful for his thoughtful expression, his inscrutable face. “I can practically guarantee that if he laid hands on me, I would be chained up in his basement and he’d be telling me how much he loved me every time he raped me. But he’d keep me alive until he was forced to kill me.”
“Thank you for that visual,” Jett said, pushing the words through a jaw so tight Sam was sure shards of enamel were dropping from his teeth.
“That,” Will said, dropping to sit on the couch, “makes so much sense.”
“Yeah,” Jett growled. “But it doesn’t help us catch him.”
