Havoc by Shannon McKenna
13
Mace contemplated the beautiful curves and hollows of Cait’s sleeping face. Wind whistled outside, and rain pattered against the windows. To think that as recently as last night, he’d been shivering in a camouflage tent out in the mud and the snow on Shaw’s Bluff, dreaming fitfully of revenge, fire and blood. And tonight, he was on a soft bed with his body wound around the hottest, most fascinating woman he’d ever met.
He had to drag himself back down from orbit, if only to protect her better. Security could not be effectively done in a post-coital haze. He didn’t even like to imagine what the Prophet would think of his flash-fried state of mind.
He wished he could scrub that yammering fire and brimstone bullshit completely out of his head, and not have to constantly root it out of his thoughts, over and over.
Fuck the curse.That was the catch-all phrase he and his brothers used to ward off their memories of GodsAcre. Fuck the curse. It worked like a shield against dark thoughts. Horrible memories that stung like a lash, or burned like a brand.
But the curse kept on dogging them. Or so they thought.
It had been both horrifying and also somehow liberating when they finally realized that the curse was not a supernatural cloud of bad magic hanging over their heads. It was something much simpler. A live, flesh-and-blood person who hated their guts, and wanted them dead. Perversely, it also felt like good news.
Because unlike a supernatural cloud, a real, live person could be killed.
And this time, they wouldn’t let the bastard fake his own death. This time, Mace would personally make sure that the light in Kimball’s eyes went out. He would plant that dickwad’s nasty corpse into the ground with his own hands, cover it with dirt and tamp it down with a fucking backhoe.
Red Kimball was never touching his brothers, or Demi and Fi, or Nate or Elisa, ever again. Or Cait, either, for that matter.
He was too overstimulated to sleep, but watching Cait do it smoothed his brainwaves out, which was better than nothing. As a rule, he got better rest on rocky ground in a cold, smelly tent than he did in a civilized bedroom.
But that might change, if Cait was in the bed. Big game-changer.
He’d never remotely considered having a woman in his life on the regular. He didn’t even bring them to his home, if and when he ever had one. He’d taken a page out of his brother Anton’s old playbook, and confined his sex life to hotels. He’d mostly lived in hotels anyway, these past several years. It made things simpler.
But for all his efforts to protect himself from the ladies, Anton had fallen for Fiona so hard, it shook the entire continental plate. Same with Eric and Demi. That was how it worked for the Trasks. They were all-or-nothing kind of guys. Must be their strange and intense upbringing. They knew no compromise.
Cait’s eyelashes fluttered. Shit, he’d been thinking too loud. Letting his jagged, hating-on-Kimball brainwaves disturb her beauty sleep. He should be meditating on moonbeams and butterflies.
Her hazel eyes looked soft and confused. He held his breath, waiting for her to freeze up, but it didn’t happen. She just smiled.
“Hey, you,” she said, her voice scratchy with sleep. “Morning.”
“Sleep some more,” he urged. “It’s only been a few hours. You need rest.”
She stretched luxuriously. “You don’t look like you slept at all.”
“I have a hard time with sleep in general,” he admitted. “I just dozed a little, and then watched you do it. It chilled me right out. I could watch you for hours.”
Her smile widened. “Awww. Sweet. You look tense, though. Were you thinking about what happened last night at the hotel?”
“I was just wishing Kimball didn’t even know that you existed. Then again, if he hadn’t seen you, I wouldn’t have either. And I’m glad that I know you exist.”
“Oh, my,” she murmured. “Whispering sweet nothings in my ear.”
“No one’s ever accused me of that before. Is that what I was doing?”
“Yes,” she told him. “But it’s nice. I like it. Feel free.”
They stared at each other, like they were trying to read each other’s minds. It was getting lighter, and he could see the marks forming under her eyes. The bruises, on her shoulders, wrists, arms. He lifted up the comforter and checked the rest of her. Bruises forming everywhere. Her thighs, her calves. “Do those bruises hurt?”
“I’ll live,” she said. “I have much better things to think about.”
“Do you?” he asked hopefully.
“God, yes.” Her smile spread into a grin.
“Great news,” he said. “I was holding my breath. I was afraid you’d regret…you know. Last night. Things are weird in my life right now, as you know—”
“Mine, too,” she told him.
“Yeah, but I know this is probably not the best time for you to, you know. Start something. So I was worried about how you would feel, waking up with me today.”
“How I feel,” she repeated softly. “Hmm. Let me think about that for a second.”
He felt flustered and stupid. Probably a mistake, asking her about her feelings. He might not even be equipped to deal with her answer, if she deigned to give him one.
Cait rolled onto her back and gazed at the ceiling. “I’ve got conflicting emotions,” she said. “Waking up in the bed of a dangerous, mysterious man…it’s exciting. Not something that happens to a woman every day. I feel kind of trembling and soft. Like I can’t quite seem to let myself breathe. And I’m so hot. Just…too hot.” Cait shoved the comforter down over her breasts, then down over her thighs. She pressed her hand over her heart. “That’s better…but my heart just won’t stop racing. And my nipples feel so hard and tight, and I have this hot, heavy feeling…right down here.” Her hand slid down, pushing the blanket farther down. “Such a strange feeling.” Her hand went between her legs. “I feel empty. Aching, you know? For something big and hot and hard to fill me up. Just thinking about it makes me want to…oh…oh, God. What’s happening? Oh, God…I…I just can’t seem to stop.”
The woman had no mercy. She just writhed on the bed next to him in total abandon, arching and gasping as she rubbed one out, right before his astonished eyes. Putting on a spectacular show. Blowing his fucking mind.
She came, flinging her head back with a cry, and it was the most erotic thing he’d ever imagined. His imagination had never taken him anyplace like this.
She opened her eyes, and laughed out loud. “Oh my God, your face,” she said. “I didn’t mean to shock your socks off. I just wanted to make you laugh. And turn you on.”
“You succeeded,” he told her. “Not that you needed to go to much trouble.”
“So? If it worked, then get your tight gorgeous ass over here.” She reached for him, flinging her leg over his thigh. Tugging him.
“Wait. I need to get you ready. First let me—”
“I took care of it myself, right in front of your face. I’m so wet. Feel me.” She grabbed his hands, and pulled them down between her legs.
He almost lost it when he felt the slick, tender folds of her pussy.
“See?” she whispered. “I am so hungry for you right now.”
“I thought you didn’t want me on top of you,” he said, as she tugged at him.
“Oh, that was yesterday. I’m not going to get all confused and triggered by you, Mace Trask. Not anymore. I know you. I want you. All over me.”
No way was he arguing with that. Mace rolled over onto her, careful to rest his weight on his arms as she wiggled into position. She reached down to grab his cock, putting him right where she wanted him, and then, oh God. The tight, excellent push inside the slick, plush depths of her fabulous pussy…and they were off.
So good. It was killing him with pleasure. He pumped his cock into her, their bodies rocking in slick, juicy, perfect synch. Her tits jolted with every thrust, and her luscious lip was caught between her teeth. She clung to him, arms, legs, demanding everything. He’d intended to make it last, but her seductive spectacle had worked him up to a fever pitch, and the landslide crashed down, no control possible. Thank God, she was well on her way when it hit. Wild pleasure had its way with them both.
Afterwards, Mace held her tightly to his chest. He felt the need to hide the look on his face. He couldn’t lay his heavy emotional stuff on her. He didn’t want to scare her.
Fuck, he scared himself.
He kissed the top of her head and rolled away from her, mumbling something about the bathroom as he scooped up his sweat pants from the floor.
The bathroom mirror was the only one in the whole apartment, and today, it was one mirror too many. He looked as terrified as he felt. He showered, deodorized, brushed his teeth, pulled his pants on. When he opened the door, he found Cait standing there in all her naked glory, her fresh clothes clamped under her arm.
“Aw, so quick,” she said. “I was about to suggest that we share a shower, but look at you, all clean and minty fresh.” She gave his cheek a soft pat.
“You can’t imagine what it costs me to turn that down,” he said. “But I have a very strong feeling that we’ll have company soon. Far too soon.”
She looked startled. “Really? At this hour?”
“Yes,” he said, regretfully. “Clint was on duty downstairs last night, and he definitely saw you on the cameras when you came in with me. He had the good sense not to give me a raft of shit about it right on the spot, but you can be sure he has told everyone that I didn’t come home alone. Brace yourself to be closely observed.”
“Got it. In that case, I’d better make myself presentable. Excuse me.”
She shooed him out. He heard the shower start up, with a stab of regret for what might have been. But it was true. They were about to get hammered, any minute now.
The only thing that might possibly help in the coming shitshow was coffee, so he started rummaging around in the kitchen for it. He found a bag of French roast in the freezer, and got the coffee maker going. Then he braced himself, and checked the fridge.
Ay, yi, yi. Just sad remnants of stuff he’d forgotten in there weeks ago, in a state of decomposition that was gruesome to behold.
He was an adequate cook, if he kept it simple, but having Demi around and the Corner Café so close had made him lazy. Lately, he’d just focused on GodsAcre, Kimball, and the cavern. But it was embarrassing not to have anything. Even cream for her coffee.
Buzzzzz.The doorbell. And so it began. Mace slammed the useless fridge shut and braced to meet his doom.
A swift glance at the security monitor showed Nate outside. It was early, for Nate, who used the apartment below him. The Trask brothers were always up at four AM, if they slept at all, but slugabed Nate was often still snoring at six, or even seven. It wasn’t even six, yet here Nate was, awake and bright-eyed and inquisitive.
Clint must had run up and woken him up when he switched shifts with Jim Wong. He jerked the door open. “You’re up early,” he said.
“I’m surprised to see you back here so soon.” Nate waited for Mace to step back and invite him in, and when Mace didn’t, he just pushed past him. “When did you come down from the Bluff? You said you’d be back in two weeks.”
“I wanted a shower,” Mace growled.
Nate turned his keen dark gaze onto him. “I just bet you did,” he said. “And a close shave, and deodorant, and let’s see…yep, mouthwash, and aftershave.” He leaned forward, sniffing. “Mmm. All tweaked out. I’d fuck you myself, if that were my thing.”
“You lost me, buddy,” Mace said stonily.
“You play dumb, but nobody buys it. I don’t know why you bother.” Nate looked around, and his eyes fastened on Cait’s shoes, on the rug by the door, mud-splattered and filthy, but dainty, compared to his monstrous boats. A little hot pink leather peeked out of the inner part of the boot’s tongue. Then there was the suitcase. Unzipped, with ladies’ unmentionables jumbled around with a toiletries case that had purple butterflies on it.
“So it’s true,” Nate said. “You have a guest. Of the female persuasion.”
“Clint came tattling this morning?”
“He was just on fire to tell someone,” Nate said. “I was the closest. Lucky me. He also said you guys looked like you’d been roughed up.” He studied Mace’s battered face carefully, then circled him, cataloging the bruises and scrapes on his torso. “He went straight to Anton. So everyone must know by now. Fun times ahead, buddy.”
“Why am I such an object of curiosity? Mind your goddamn business, all of you.”
“Are you kidding? After all of your lecturing about how irresponsible we are, rolling around in bed thinking with our little heads and leaving you to do all the heavy lifting while vile monsters plot the destruction of all that we hold dear? It is sweet, my man. Sweet, to see you fall into that honeyed trap.”
“What honeyed trap might that be?” Cait’s voice rang out. “I hope you’re not referring to me, because I’m not sweet at all.”
Cait stood in the entryway, barefoot, wearing ripped jeans and a loose white sweatshirt. She looked fresh and gorgeous. “Good morning,” she said to Nate. She glanced at Mace. “Is this one of those brothers that you told me about?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Mace said. “Not by blood, but we were comrades in arms in the Marines. This is Nate. He’s saved my life more than once.”
Cait came forward, holding out her hand with a smile. “A pleasure. Cait LaMott.”
Nate shook it, his eyes flicking back and forth between them. “Nate Murphy, at your service. Do my eyes deceive me, or have you guys been brawling?”
Cait looked dismayed. “Is it so obvious? I used lots of concealer.”
“You look fine, but I can spot those tricks a mile away.”
Right. Nate had once confided that his dad had been a scumbag wife beater, so Nate must be sensitized to that. But now Nate was looking at Mace, and Mace didn’t have any concealer on his scrapes, bruises and contusions. Or even a shirt, for that matter.
“We had an eventful evening,” Mace said.
“Eventful, my ass. Who’d you guys fight?”
“Fight?” A female voice. “You’ve been fighting? Who?”
Elisa was at the door, Nate’s fiancée. Elisa’s curly dark hair hung down to her waist. She wore paint-smeared overalls and a T-shirt. As usual, she had paint in her hair.
Mace sighed. “Cait, Elisa Roarke, Nate’s fiancée. Elisa, Cait LaMott.”
Cait smiled at the other woman. “Delighted to meet you, Elisa.”
“That’s generous, considering that we burst in on you before you even had your coffee,” Elisa looked over the bruises and scrapes on Mace’s naked torso. “Holy crap, Mace! Did somebody thrash you?”
Mace bristled. “You should’ve seen the other guys. Three of them. “
“And they were shooting at him, too,” Cait said.
Nate’s eyes narrowed. “Shooting? What the fuck?”
“Who shot you?” This was Anton, his oldest brother, striding in with his bride-to-be, Fiona, on his heels. “And why are we just hearing about this now? Did you get hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Mace said wearily.
“So who was it?” Anton demanded.
“Who do you think?” Mace asked, his voice testy. “Kimball’s goons.”
Eric spoke from the doorway. “You get shot up by Kimball’s goons, but instead of calling us, you hook up with some girl, and bring her back for a passionate encounter?”
Cait cleared her throat. “I am not ‘some girl.’ I am Cait LaMott. And the passion level of our encounter is nobody’s goddamn business but ours.”
Eric was startled into silence for a moment. “Ah, yeah. My apologies,” he finally said. “My rudeness isn’t for you. It’s all for him.”
“He doesn’t deserve it,” Cait said crisply. “He came to my rescue. Just in time.”
“There was no time to call anyone for help,” Mace said. “Cait, this is my brother, Eric. And this is Fiona, my sister-in-law. Or she will be, when she marries Anton.”
“How do you know it was Kimball’s people who attacked her?” Fiona demanded. “And why her? What’s his beef with her?”
“I didn’t even know Kimball existed until Mace told me about him yesterday,” Cait said.
All eyes turned on him, waiting for him to cough up an explanation. While he stood here, half-naked, muddled and flustered, without even a cup of coffee to fortify him. This ordeal was playing out more or less how he imagined, just faster and harder.
“I found her in the cave up at GodsAcre,” he admitted.
Everyone turned startled eyes on Cait.
“What was your business up there?” Eric asked.
“Long story,” Cait said.
“Give me the short version, then,” Eric said curtly.
“Back off, Eric,” Mace growled. “She hasn’t even had her coffee yet.”
“It’s okay, Mace,” Cait assured him. She looked up at Eric. “The short version. So, my dad was a virologist. He disappeared fourteen years ago, under suspicious circumstances. He had a safety deposit box that I was unable to access until his estate was finally out of probate. When I opened it, I found a tracker, a journal, and some coordinates. I followed the coordinates, to see if I could find out what happened to Dad. They led me to that place on the mountains that you call GodsAcre. I used the tracking device once I got there, and it led me into the cavern. And that’s it.”
“Did you find anything in there?” Anton asked.
“No,” she said. “Something is pinging, underneath the rubble. But I don’t know how to get to it.”
“So,” Fi said. “You found nothing.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” she said. “I found him.” She jerked her chin toward Mace. “He tackled me in the cave. Scared me to death.”
Eric nodded thoughtfully. “Hmmph. So when were you attacked?”
“Last night, in the Mountainview Motel,” she told him.
Eric looked shocked. He turned to Mace. “You left her at the Mountainview? Jesus, Mace, why not bring her back here?”
“It wasn’t up to him,” Cait said. “I didn’t know if I trusted him yet. No way was I going to his house.”
“Fair enough,” Fiona said. “I would’ve done the same. Then what?”
“Kimball’s boys showed up at two-thirty, more or less,” Mace said. “I booked a room across the courtyard, to keep an eye on her door.”
“I see.” Anton’s voice was heavy with disapproval. “So you had all the time in the world to contact us. We could have joined you there. You chose not to tell us.”
“I didn’t expect them to move so fast,” Mace said. “Watching her was just a precaution.”
“So they came,” Anton said. “And you fought them off. And then?”
“We fought them off,” Mace said, with emphasis. “She’s a total badass.”
“They ran off with my bag,” Cait explained. “I was desperate. It had my father’s notes and journal in it. I wasn’t going to let those bastards have it. Mace went after it.”
“Hmm.” Anton, Nate and Eric exchanged meaningful glances.
“Then they started shooting,” she went on. “I had no idea things would get so crazy. I thought I was just poking around in some abandoned ruins that time forgot, looking for clues about something that was relevant only to me. Instead, I poked a sleeping dragon.” She glanced at Mace. “Or two sleeping dragons, actually.”
Fi snickered under her breath. “Dragon, eh? Mmm. Fiery.”
He heard smothered laughter all around. “I’m going to put on a shirt,” he growled.
“Yes, for the love of God, cover yourself,” Anton said.
“You sound like Jeremiah when you say prudish, uptight shit like that,” Mace called back over his shoulder.
“Bite your tongue, you naked punk,” Anton retorted.
Cait grabbed his wrist as he walked by, her nails digging into his skin. “Be quick in there,” she murmured. “Do not leave me alone with this crowd.”
“Just the time it takes to throw on a shirt,” he promised.
Besides, they would be easier on Cait than they would be on him. He would get no mercy, and no quarter. Why should they?
He’d certainly never shown them any himself.