A Kiss of Revenge (Entangled Ignite) (9 page)

During one of her early therapy sessions, when Griff showed up to give her a progress report and ended up staying to chat while she worked, she’d learned he’d gone to a prep school where he’d been on the polo team. She had a much easier time picturing him playing cops and robbers on horseback, leaping off into a rolling dive, and coming up firing an imaginary revolver, than waving a mallet and sporting gleaming white britches and black knee boots.

She chuckled and threw her head back, face to the sun, eyes closed, feeling only the breeze, hearing only the horse’s breathing and the
chink
of tack as he shifted. She loved the sense of potential, of anticipation, that built as she sat. Finally, when she heard Griff coming up the hill, she opened her eyes, sat deep in the saddle, and yelled. Hacker took off, galloping full out across the flat, his neck stretched forward, his stride confident, solid. He pulled up reluctantly when she reined him in.

She turned him and spied out the targets the stable boy had set up as a favor to save her time. She tipped him well for doing it. He always placed them differently, and had told her once, when she asked what had possessed him to set one under a bush, that he liked to challenge her. It worked. She now made sure to hit every target, even if it took her half an hour to find them all.

He’d gone easy on her today, though. Two of the traditional bullseyes sat out in the open field. A deer-shaped silhouette peered around a tree. A couple of smaller targets dangled from other trees, one high, one low, and he’d set a man-shaped standee of black-painted wood up on the hill.

That one she always saved for last.

She secured the reins so they wouldn’t drag and pulled her bow and an arrow from the quiver on her back. She had checked the arrows in the car, making sure there was no damage, and the bow had been restrung since the last time she used it, so she was ready to go. She moved into position and waited for Griff to join her. He’d only been on the field with her once before, but knew to stay out of range in case an arrow went astray.

She nudged the horse into a canter and nocked the arrow. Her first release went wide of the target. She had the second one nocked before the first landed on the grass, and this one hit, though well out of the bullseye. She wheeled the horse around, switched hands, and let the next two fly. The first hit the outer edge of the target, the second the innermost ring but not the center.

“A bit rusty?” Griff teased when she stopped next to him. The horse immediately bent to graze.

“A little,” she admitted, not bothered. That was what happened when you didn’t practice. Still, she couldn’t help adding, “But I’ve never been as good with my left as I am with my right.”

“Then why do it that way?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes the angle’s not right for the other way. Really, it’s just to stretch myself.” She tightened the buckles of her wrist guards and took off again, this time circling toward the deer. She wasn’t a hunter, and didn’t care for the animal targets. Too much symbolism when one of the other targets was human. She let the stable boy keep setting them up, not because she wanted to desensitize herself to her discomfort, but because she never wanted to stop feeling it.

She hit the deer broadside, crossed over to aim at the small, dangling targets—missed one moving in the breeze, clipped the edge of the other—and dashed up the hill to the human. This one represented Big K, though he’d never had a name before. What she’d heard last night ran through her head.
All get off on her… Have a go at her corpse…

Then the older memories came.
Changed the pickup date… Suggested I take you… Too much of a hurry…
Rage flooded her as she topped the rise and loosed the arrow straight into the target’s chest.

She let the horse slow to a walk across the top of the hill, her own breathing as hard as if she’d been the one running. The arrow had splintered the target around the hole, the wood underneath bright in contrast to the black paint. She studied it, and felt nothing. Not even the rage that had propelled her up here but dissipated as fast as her arrow left her bow.

Griff reached her, his body moving easily in the saddle, his hands light on the reins. But his eyes were hard as he studied the target. “Nice one.” Careful voice, free of judgment, which telegraphed it anyway.

“Thanks.” She nudged the horse over and yanked the arrow out of the wood, and they rode side by side across the field until they reached the first one she’d released. She dismounted to retrieve it and Griff joined her. They walked the horses around the field, picking up the rest of the arrows and talking about inconsequential things. The blue sky. The overgrowth of autumn olive at the edges of the field, and how strong its scent was. What kind of muffin she’d make for tomorrow’s special.

Slowly, though, the tension began to creep back up on her. As they returned to the stables and prepared the horses for their stalls, the conversation slowly progressed through dinner plans—grinders from a place they’d pass on the way home—to what time they’d leave tonight. Once they got in the car to go, Griff took things up a notch and tried again to make a case for her to wear a wire. She was glad he hadn’t leaped straight to trying to talk her out of the whole thing, but she still didn’t agree it was safe to be wired.

“I’m supposed to be naked,” she argued. “Where am I going to hide a wire?”

He winced when she said the word “naked” but refrained from commenting.

“I have some pretty cool technology. They’ll never see it. It’s not like the wires and battery packs in the old movies.”

“I don’t care. This is risky enough without making them think I’m a fed or something.”

He shot her a look. “You agree it’s risky?”

“Of course I do.” She looked out the side window, not wanting him to see how much it bothered her that four men—or more—expected her to have sex with them. If she thought her plan wouldn’t work, she wouldn’t be going in there, but a million things could go wrong and put her in deep trouble.

“All right,” she said, “I’ll wear the wire. If you stop brothering me.”

“Thank you.”

After they ate, she went to pick out what she was going to wear. Her wardrobe wasn’t that extensive, but she did have a few options. She draped a sundress on the bed and folded the hem up. She had just enough time to cut it shorter.

“No way.”

She looked up to see Griff leaning on the doorjamb, holding a can of soda.

“Why not?”

“It’s too sexy.”

Reese blew out a breath. “I’m
supposed
to look sexy! It’s a porn video!”

He shrugged. She studied the dress, wanting to wear it just to defy him, but the tiny flowered print was actually too sweet, no matter how short she made it.

Maybe her cat suit? That was in the laundry, though. She pulled the suit from the basket in her closet and shook it out. She could wash it quickly—but Griff snatched it from her hands and tossed it back in the basket. He stepped into the closet and started shoving hangers back and forth.

“How about an overcoat?” she sniped at him. “Go classic, cliché, and covered up all at the same time.”

He ignored her. So she ignored him back, turning to pull open her dresser drawers. She found a pair of low-rise jeans and a baby-doll T-shirt and held them up. “How about these? With cowboy boots?”

He looked skeptically at the scrap of fabric she called a shirt. “Let me see it on.”

“For cripes’ sake.” She rolled her eyes and shoved him into the hall. “Give me a sec.” After quickly changing, she shoved her feet into the boots and reopened the door. He studied her critically. Her frustration disappeared, replaced by pure vanity. She stood still, not giving in to the urge to arch a little and emphasize the wide strip of belly and decent amount of cleavage exposed by the clingy shirt.

Starting at the floor, his eyes stroked slowly up over the snug jeans and stopped when they hit her waist. His fingers drummed in midair, as if he wanted to touch her. Her skin warmed and muscles tightened as a fire ignited deep inside her. Intimate muscles clenched involuntarily, and she stopped breathing.

When Griff’s gaze reached her chest he closed his eyes and curled his fingers into his palms. “Yeah, that’ll do.” He spun and disappeared down the hallway.

She followed him to the kitchen, where he circled to the far side of the table and pried open a plastic case that was about one inch square. He kept his head down when she approached, but she could see his cheekbones were ruddy. Pure feminine satisfaction gave her a similar flush, and she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his big, strong hands manipulating a tiny tube of glue and the black dot he’d removed from the case. They were so capable, yet so gentle. She could almost imagine his calluses scraping across her skin. Gooseflesh erupted. She felt the heat of him move behind her to circle to his side of the table. All the hair on that side of her body seemed to rise up and reach for him, tugging her in his direction as he passed, and the sensation was so much like when she went haywire that she slammed the door on encroaching electricity before she realized there wasn’t any. She wasn’t flustered or upset, so her controls remained in place. The effect had been purely physical. Purely…sexual.

She slammed a second mental door on that thought.

“So.” She cleared her throat. “What’s this amazing technology?”

“Come here.” He waved his hand, forefinger extended with the dot resting on its tip.

She reluctantly went around the table and let him secure the tiny device behind her ear. He touched her so lightly and quickly she barely felt it, but more tingles erupted, and she had to clamp down on the electricity when the lightbulb in the ceiling flickered.

Griff cast it a quick glance. “The glue will take a little while to wear off, but it’ll keep it from dropping onto the bed at the worst moment.” He frowned and brushed his fingers across the silver chain of her necklace. They sizzled against her skin. “This is the necklace I got you.”

She pressed her palm against the butterfly and branch charms inside her shirt. She’d worn it nonstop since he’d put it around her neck. It was wrong to keep it, wrong to wear it, risky to wear it tonight—but the designer’s symbols of strength and beauty were so opposite to what her life was right now, she had to keep it close as a reminder of what she was fighting for. If not for herself, for anyone else who could be falling victim to Big K.

Griff slipped his fingers beneath the chain and pulled until the charms glided from between her breasts and out of the shirt. Her nipples tightened.

His lips curved. “You should leave it here.”

“I know.” But she tugged it off his hand and tucked it back where it had been. His eyes darkened, far more blue than gray, but he moved away and picked up the small receiver from the table, pressing a button until a small display lit up. “Let’s test this before we go.” He stepped out into the hall and called, “Okay, talk!”

“You’re a bit of a geek, aren’t you? I didn’t realize that.”

He appeared in the doorway, his eyes narrow. “Yeah, it worked perfectly.”

She winked. He rolled his eyes.

“Okay, but that’s right next to the transmitter,” she said. “Where will you be?”

“Across the street. It has a half-mile radius.”

“In that neighborhood, you’ll stand out.”

“Don’t worry, this is my job. No one will see me.”

“Back to the code word, then.” She sat at the table and consulted their list. It had to be something unusual, so Griffin didn’t go flying to the rescue because she’d slipped and said it without thinking. But it couldn’t be something
too
unusual, either, or the people around her would notice. Eventually, they decided on “snake.” It carried enough innuendo that she could work it in, but was distinctive enough to catch his attention.

And then it was time to go.

He dropped her off five blocks from the house several minutes before nine, then drove on. He would try to intercept the girl she was replacing so their plan wouldn’t get screwed up. He hadn’t mentioned what he would say to her, but Reese assumed he’d play cop or fed and tell her a little about what she was getting herself into, scare the girl off so she didn’t come back.

A few minutes remained before Reese had to be at the house. She practiced a slow, hip-rolling, chest-leading gait and flipped her hair a few times, trying to get into the part. Acting was not one of her acquired skills. Maybe if she’d married an actor instead of a pilot he wouldn’t have gotten himself killed, and then she wouldn’t be in this mess.

You chose the mess, and now you have to follow through.

She resisted the nerves-driven urge to ask if Griff was still there. But the transmitter only went one way, and she didn’t want to make him think she was scared. If he did, he’d abort the mission immediately.

Ripper didn’t show up when she went in the broken gate and up the driveway. He was probably in the house with Dob, who’d been spooked by the guardhouse incident. As she reached the porch steps, Skav came out to greet her. She felt herself flush under his stare, but that was probably normal. She bet a lot of women were nervous their first time, and blushing was a natural reaction to nerves.

“Come on,” was his only greeting. She followed him inside and up the stairs to the dressing room. She rubbed her arms against the chill and wondered why the air conditioning was cranked so high. A moment later, Skav handed her a red dress on a hanger. His eyes immediately went to her hardened nipples, and he didn’t bother to hide a satisfied leer.

She hid her disgust, but held the dress in front of her when she took it from Skav.

He snapped to manager mode. “Put that on. The talent picked it half an hour ago. He’s ready, so hurry up.”

She bit back a retort—he’d told her to come at nine. But she wasn’t working here, so it didn’t matter how hard of a time he gave her. It wasn’t real.

That thought relaxed her enough to get the dress on with a minimum of shuddering and shaking. A thong dangled from the hanger, but thank God she’d worn her own. The wrap-style dress snapped on the left side, tight enough to reveal both how cold she was
and
what her underwear looked like. The “talent” probably planned to rip it off her. She didn’t intend for things to get that far.