Chapter 12 Lucien #2
Five men jump out of the van, and now I think we’re really in trouble. But then I see the glint of metal in the shadow of the wall on the other side of the parking lot, and remember the bike.
We have a motorcycle.
We can’t get to my car—that van is between us and the black beast I brought here—but we have something better. And these guys don’t know that we have it.
I grab Brooks’ hand and sprint for the thing, counting on her to keep up, and she lays down cover as we run.
She must hit at least one of the guys because I hear a body fall to the ground, but I’m too busy trying to plan our escape to pay too much attention.
If we can get to the bike, I think we can make it out of here.
Not through the parking lot, because those men will be able to follow us too quickly.
But through the catacombs.
We reach the bike without getting shot and I stick my hand out. “Keys!”
Brooks doesn’t argue. She reaches into her jacket, yanks them out, and throws them at me, and within seconds I’m on the bike revving the engine.
Brooks growls–probably because I’m not letting her drive–but then jumps onto the bike behind me and, after a moment of hesitation, wraps herself around me.
My cock immediately goes hard at the contact.
She’s hot, her breath on my neck and her hands low on my belly, and I have to fight the urge to push her against the wall and ravish her the way I want to.
I want to tangle my hands in her hair and press my body against hers, tilt her head back and devour her mouth.
Taste every fucking inch of her. I want her wrapped around me in a whole different way, and the lust of it is so strong it nearly knocks me flat.
I haven’t felt anything like this since. ..
Since...
Since the last time I had her in my bed at my father’s mansion.
I’d fucked her for hours, taking my time and making sure to touch every inch of her body.
I’d wanted to brand her with my name, spread my scent across her like some sort of animal.
I told her I loved her that night, and we went to sleep with her tangled up in my sheets and my body still half-covering her.
When I woke up, she was gone.
A gunshot brings me sharply out of the memory, and I realize Brooks is hissing in my ear.
“What are you doing, waiting for this to get more exciting? Get us the fuck out of here!”
I jerk back into reality. Shit, I’m about to get shot, and so is Brooks, and I’m sitting here daydreaming about her body.
I really need to start thinking about therapy.
I tuck my cane under my arm for safekeeping, pull her arms tighter around me, and take off through the parking lot toward the door into the catacombs.
This entrance has always been my favorite. Now I add another reason to the list.
***
We get back to my estate high on adrenaline and triumph, and that heady feeling of having survived something you know you shouldn’t have survived. I let the bike drop to the ground in the driveway and pull Brooks into the house and up toward my bedroom.
I have things I need to discuss with her, and I don’t want an audience.
For once, she doesn’t argue, and follows me up the stairs and into the wing of the house that I call my own.
We pass one door, then two, and I throw the third open when we get there.
My suite spreads out in front of us, only sparely decorated, and I take only a moment to appreciate how quiet and clean it is in here.
When I turn to Brooks, she’s leaning against the wall, her hair down and her eyes wide, the pupils blown out with the action of the night.
And I can’t help myself anymore. I dive into her, covering her mouth with mine and taking what I’ve wanted since I saw her in the catacombs a week ago.
She’s sweet and smoky and dark, the epitome of New Orleans, and just like the city, she opens up for me, tilting her head and welcoming me like she’s been waiting for this.
My tongue sweeps into her mouth and I feel her groan in my chest.
It rattles down my body directly to my dick, and I’m hard as a rock before she’s finished.
I press against her, rocking my hips with driving, adrenaline-fueled need, the high of the night still humming in my veins, and Brooks gasps.
She doesn’t pull back, though. Instead, she spreads her legs further apart so my cock is nestled between them, two layers of fabric the only thing separating us.
Our kiss becomes frantic, tongues and teeth clashing as we fight to get closer to each other, and I feel like I may have died and gone to heaven.
Everything around me is singing with triumph at having her under my hands again, and the way she’s reacting to me is stoking the fire in my veins.
I want to rip her clothes off, push her to the floor, and cover her with my body. I want to sink my cock into her and then lay there, savoring the feel of her around me before I fuck her. I’m going to claim her as my own and never let her go again, dammit.
This woman is mine, and it’s time she fucking admits it.
In that moment, though, she pulls away from me and stares into my eyes. She’s breathing hard, her chest moving up and down beneath mine, and her lips are already swollen with the passion of my kisses.
“You saved me,” she breathes.
And it’s so unexpected, so out of place, that it takes me out of the moment and back into the memory. Did I? I suppose I did, with the idea of taking the bike into the catacombs, but it’s such a strange observation, and so un-Brooks-like, that it throws me off balance.
Still, I can’t disappoint her by refusing to take credit.
“Of course I did. Did you expect anything less?”
A frown creases her brow and she stares into my eyes, looking so hard I wonder what she’s searching for. A different answer? What’s going on here?
“You came after me. You didn’t leave me alone,” she whispers.
And now I’m positive I don’t know what she’s talking about, or what’s going on here. I was ready to rip her clothes off and fuck her, and she’s having some sort of existential crisis. She’s also looking at me like I’m the most amazing thing she’s ever seen, though, and I’m not going to stop her.
The truth is, I’ve had dreams about her looking at me like this.
I kind of like it.
The look disappears as quickly as it came, though, and her eyes blink and then turn serious.
“We have to figure out what we’re going to do.”
I almost fall down with the whiplash, but manage to keep myself on my feet, and agree with her quickly. We don’t actually have time to fall to the floor and fuck all night, though it would be fun.
We’re in the middle of destroying a human trafficking ring. And now multiple people have seen us and know we’re involved.
Aislyn and the girls were already on a tight timeline, and now we probably are, too. Because it’s only a matter of time before Dominick and whoever he’s working for know that Brooks and I are trying to destroy their operation.
So I jump right in.
“Your father is the one running the ring, or at least coordinating it. He’s running it out of Under the City. In the catacombs.”
Her shock tells me that she didn’t know at least some of that, but then she makes a face. “I already knew about my dad. I didn’t know about the club, but that makes sense. But I now know the names of all those girls, and if I’m right, I also have locations for the kidnappings.”
It’s my turn now to make a face. “Okay, you win. That’s better. But we need more. We need to know why. And who’s ultimately calling the shots.”
She nods, but doesn’t look away from me. “And there’s only one way to figure that out. Get inside.”
Dammit.
“How did I know you were going to say that?” I ask softly.
“Because you know me better than almost anyone else in this world. Probably,” she replies quietly.
The admission goes straight into my heart like an arrow, and I feel like I might die right then and there.
“And if you know that,” I say firmly, “then you know I’m not risking you on some stupid plan.” I push harder against her, pinning her to the wall and hoping she gets the message. I’m not letting her go. Not this time.
“I’m not yours to risk,” she says simply. “Are you going to help me or what?”
I take a step back, my ardor turning to ice water in my veins. We were so close for a moment, there, and then she tore it away like a Band-Aid she never wanted to wear.
More fool I for thinking she’d changed.
“Maybe. How do you plan to get in?”
She gives me a Cheshire cat grin. “Easy. My dad’s having a ball tomorrow night. And I’m invited.”