Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
A s he drove into town and pulled up next to Sam’s Tavern, fury slid through Brock’s body faster than one of Amka’s specially-made glacier shots with homemade moonshine. He opened his door to jump out of his truck, leaving the engine running. “What the hell are you doing just standing in the dark?” It took him a second, but he caught sight of his spare weapon in Ophelia’s hand. “At least you show some sense.” Although the surrounding buildings were shrouded in darkness, and even a subpar sniper on a rooftop could’ve easily caught her unawares.
She snorted. “Do you have a melee of snipers here in Knife’s Edge?”
He’d said that out loud? Crouching, he took in the slashed tires. Sharp blade, strong strokes. Somebody was coming for her, and he had to figure out who before they actually struck. His anger spiraled even hotter. “We’ll have the garage tow you tomorrow.” He stood, noting the snow in her dark hair. Man, she had a lot of hair. His hands clenched with the need to tunnel through the thick strands and hold her in place. Any place. “Get in the truck.”
She didn’t need a kinder invitation because she dodged into the street and jumped into his passenger seat, shoving the gun into her pocket and holding her gloved hands out to the heater. Her laptop bag hit the winter mat with a soft thunk.
He sat and shut his door, the smell of strawberries instantly assailing him. Not the soft scent of those in the grocery store. No. The full-on, sweet, and succulent smell of wild fruit. The sensation added to the already boiling temper at the top of his spine. The pressure threatened to explode and spiral outward, ready to decimate anyone in his path.
“You’re in a mood,” she observed mildly.
He kept perfect control as he pressed on the gas pedal. A mood? Yeah. He was in a fucking mood. The entire world frustrated the hell out of him. Ace kept drinking himself into oblivion, Damian appeared embroiled in something possibly dangerous at EVE, and Christian had already lost his patience with everybody. In addition, Brock didn’t know who’d killed Hank, and burying his head in the snow no longer worked because the woman he was falling hard for would discover the truth. He had to get there first.
Worse yet, the woman wouldn’t let him provide cover. He needed to shield her from the shitstorm coming. Yeah, she worked as a trained FBI agent, which impressed him. Even so, she didn’t know the wilderness, and she sure as shit didn’t know Knife’s Edge. Dangers lurked everywhere, even for somebody who knew how to handle a gun. “You coming to my place?”
“Yes.”
Something in him eased. Finally.
Her phone rang, and she jumped, glancing at the face. “That’s odd. It’s late in DC.” She answered. “Hello, sir.” Her entire body stiffened. “No, but—” Seconds ticked by as she listened. “Who called you? I don’t understand. What in the world is going on?”
Brock’s gut turned over. Consider it taken care of, then . Casual words from Damian that hadn’t meant much in the moment.
Ophelia pulled the phone away from her ear and just stared at it. It seemed, the caller had disconnected. “I can’t believe it.”
His eyebrows shot up. Anger vibrated from her, hitting him hard. “What?”
She swiveled, her sapphire eyes glittering in the darkness. “I have three days to wrap up the investigation into Hank’s death, and then I’m apparently on leave. Possibly permanently.”
Brock kept his hands loose on the wheel. Just what kind of power did Damian have in DC, anyway? “Why?”
“No reason. Just that the FBI has decided to turn the Knife’s Edge cases over to the locals—to the sheriff, whomever that might end up being. What did you do?” She swept out her hands. “That’s impossible. My boss had a friendship with Hank way back when, which is the main reason I’m here. So, somebody above him yanked me off.”
Brock frowned. “Even so, why is he going to put you on leave?”
She pushed her wild hair away from her face in quick and angry motions. “I fell into a bit of trouble from dating a coworker who sucked, and this was my last chance for redemption.” She eyed him. “Tell me you didn’t make this happen.”
“I didn’t. No pull in DC, baby.” Not exactly true. He wasn’t even sure Damian had done so, but he’d find out. He felt for her as he drove and parked outside his cabin bypassing the shop, cutting the engine. “I’ll help you solve Tammy’s disappearance. Maybe that’ll get your job back.” Although her switching to a different job would help him out tremendously.
He believed in duty and honor. He’d fought and nearly died for his country and all the good freedom represented. But above all, he believed in family. At any cost. “Have you ever thought about a different line of work?”
She punched him in the arm. Full-on and with a closed fist. It wasn’t a love tap.
He instantly retaliated, grasping her biceps and dragging her across his seat and out into the snow. A quick duck, and she was over his shoulder, heading into the cabin. “Hitting isn’t nice, Olly.” He planted one hard smack on her curvy ass to prove his point.
Her response was a perfectly placed punch to his ribs.
He chuckled and slapped her again, putting some effort into it this time. The sound she made was half fury and half chuckle.
“You’re ridiculous,” she said as he kicked open his cabin door and strode inside to drop her onto the sofa. Her hair flew in every direction, and her cheeks flooded with a lovely pink color. “If you want to go hand-to-hand, let’s do it, Osprey.”
Now, that was an offer he’d never refuse. “All right.” He yanked both boots off her and returned to the door to shut and lock it, kicking out of his footwear. They both needed to burn off steam and if this was the way she wanted to do it, he was all in. He returned to her, dropping his coat onto the floor. “But we’re playing my way, sweetheart.”
Her breath came in pants, and her eyes sparkled. Oh, she wanted this as much as he did. Wanted to forget everything but just the two of them. Even for only one night. “What does that mean?”
“First one to get the other naked wins. We’ll figure everything else out after that.” Including them. Despite everything happening around them—and there seemed to be a lot—he grew tired of resisting her pull. Tired of fighting his needs. Tired of being without the scent of strawberries around him at all times. “Deal?”
She bunched her legs as if to attack, anticipation lighting her stunning face. “Deal.”
He lunged.
Man, she wanted this. Ophelia kicked out, nailing Brock in the gut and stopping him cold. The impact would’ve knocked most men to their knees, but not the badass ex-SEAL turned sheriff. His smile widened.
Unease filtered through her, along with a sense of playfulness. Of challenge. So, she rolled to the side, hoping to angle over the edge of the sofa.
He was quicker, grasping her jacket and yanking it over her head.
She took advantage of his hands being full of her leather jacket and leaped over the arm of the sofa, landed, then somersaulted to her feet before turning and dropping into a fighting stance. “Thanks for the assist. I wrestle better without the jacket in the way.”
“Anytime,” he murmured, tossing the coat over his head and stalking toward her.
She couldn’t breathe. Just looking at him took her breath away. He was all man, and at the moment, all intent. Broad chest, glittering eyes, powerful hands. “You should give up now,” she suggested, keeping her focus on his feet.
“Don’t know how,” he admitted, his gaze on her feet. “I don’t like being kicked.”
She feinted to the side. “Most mules don’t.”
He cocked his head. “Did you just call me a donkey?”
“Jackass,” she agreed, having more fun than she’d had in months. For the moment, she forgot about her job, the cases, and her unsteady life. There was just here and now and the sexy Brock Osprey while she still had him. “Surely, you’ve been called that before.”
“I surely have.” He ducked and moved for her.
She jumped out of the way in time, spinning and kicking him in the thigh. Her landing graceful, she struck out with the second kick to take him down, but he moved faster than she’d imagined.
He grabbed her ankle with one hand and lifted, wrapping his free arm around her waist and taking her to the floor. His arm and knees took the brunt of the impact, keeping her safe. Rough hands grasped her shirt and ripped it down the middle. He nipped her neck, then rolled off her, coming to his feet. “Pretty bra.”
Damn it. She shrugged out of the useless shirt and stood, slightly out of breath. So far, she wasn’t winning. It was time to play dirty. Her shoulders went down, and she shook out her hands as if injured. He paused. Then she struck, tackling him at the thighs. His arms windmilled as he went back, landing on his butt with his torso going down.
She rapidly unbuckled his belt and stood, pulling it free.
There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that he allowed her to take the leather from him. Even so, she cracked it in the air, coming precariously close to his right ear.
He sat, and one of his eyebrows rose. “You’d do well to remember that I hit back, sweetheart. I have no problem turning you over my knee, so watch it with the belt. It’s a threat you can’t back up.”
His words were a low rumble that licked across her skin, flaring nerves to life. Her butt more than likely still held the imprint from his hand, and the warmth there hadn’t abated. Her entire body fired up. For him. “Is that a threat?”
He levered to his knees, still looking powerful. Those eyes glittered a surreal green. “Damn straight.”
Her butt actually clenched. It wasn’t like she would smack him with the belt. “Whatever.” She threw the belt across the room.
“Good choice.” Then, he waited.
She paused. “Stand up.”
“No.” His reach was longer than hers by far, so she bounced away.
“Don’t take it easy on me.” She didn’t want to win by default.
His grin was too sexual for any woman to stay sane. “I won’t. Trust me.”
She swallowed as her body performed a long, shivering roll. Darn it. He saw that. “Fine.” In one fluid motion, she grabbed a sofa pillow and pummeled his head with it while reaching for the bottom of his shirt.
His chuckle was calm as he yanked the pillow, tossed it, and dropped her onto his lap. A flick of his wrist released the front clasp of her bra. “There we go,” he murmured, his gaze on her breasts.
She took advantage of his distraction and reached for the hem of his shirt.
In some unfathomable movement, he lifted her, spun her, and somehow dragged her jeans right off before landing her back right where she’d started. She let out a startled yip and then dissolved into laughter, perched on him in only her panties and socks. “How did you do that?”
“I was inspired.” His fingers curled around her nape and drew her closer. “I’m done playin’.” He kissed her, hunger in the movement. His hold tightened, and he went deeper, his free hand sweeping down her body in a show of possession.
She broke the kiss only to have him lick along her jawline and sink his teeth into her earlobe. She yelped, even as he soothed the small sting. Her entire body tingled like she’d been wrestling for hours instead of minutes, and she shook her head to retain control. Any control. “I’m not done playing.” Was that her voice? Breathy and deeper than usual?
He blinked.
She shoved him back with both hands, straddling him and pulling his shirt over his head. Ha. She got it. His broad chest was now bare to her.
“All right.” He slid one arm beneath both of her bent legs, lifted her, and flipped her over. It took her a second to realize her elbows were on the floor and her body over his lap.
“Hey,” she said, trying not to laugh again, even though she was so turned on she couldn’t see straight.
“You said you weren’t done playing.” He gave her the gentle reminder in his gravelly voice right before his hand descended on her ass. “I like your pretty pink thong.” To emphasize his point, he smacked her two more times.
Her body jerked, and heat tore through her from his hand. “This isn’t playing,” she gasped, needing more.
“It is for me.” He spanked her three times in succession. “You done playing yet?”
There was no way she could get free. “Yep. Totally done with the playtime,” she ground out.
“Good.” With way too much ease, he flipped her right back around to sit and took her mouth.
Hard.