Bent (The Gifted Series) (31 page)

              Joss was already backing up toward the bed while removing her shirt.  Next went her yoga pants.

              “Oh yeah, Commando Queen,” Carter said with satisfaction. “No undies,” he drooled, watching as she turned and crawled—as best she could with one hand bandaged up— across his king-sized bed, giving him a heart-attack worthy view of her fine ass.  “Make that
my
ass.  Yep, that ass belongs to me.”

              “What’s that, love?” she tossed coquettishly over her shoulder.

              “Nothing.” Carter stalked forward, ditching his own duds. “Just commenting on how I am the proprietor of this perfect ass.” Grabbing her by the hips, he yanked her back and bent down, smacking his lips on both butt cheeks all greedy and growling.  She chuckled then yelped when he flipped her over and fell with his head in between her legs.  With zero pretense, he lapped her up, and declared, “And I’m the proprietor of this exquisite pussy.  A pussy, I might add, that I
know
quite well.” 

*
   
*
   
*
   
*

              Joss giggled again, relishing in the act and his brutish claim. “And my quim is glad for knowing ya,” she breathed through a smile.  She then arched with a groan as Carter continued reacquainting himself with his most recently acquired possession.

              After ringing a most brilliant orgasm from her, Carter crawled up along her body, making stops to nibble here and suckle there.  “Love ain’t even a word I’d use to describe my feelings for you.”  This was said into her skin as he laved and caressed.  Joss drank it in: the touching, kisses, sounds, words of devotion.  He smoothly glided forward and slid his cock into her awaiting center.  Their lips met in delicate kisses, that left one greedy for more, then Carter pulled back, his hips continuing their steady ride. “I want forever with you, sweets.  Nothing else will do.”

              “Then that’s what you can have,” she whispered, her eyes half-mast with pleasure.

              He pulled completely free, leaving her whimpering at the loss, and sat back between her legs. “No, Joss, I’m not squawking in the moment here.  In fact, this type of ‘forever’ lingo, hasn’t ever breached my lips.”

              Slightly amused by his seriousness, Joss raised up to bent elbows. Her eyes narrowed, but she playfully replied, “Well I certainly hoped ya weren’t deceivin’ me with ‘squawks’ of forever nonsense just ta get into me knickers because we’re a little passed that.”

              He leaned forward, his hands planted on either side of her bent elbows.  He hovered over, but their skin didn’t touch.  “I’m talking marriage here, sweets.  I’m talking ball and chain, ninety-ninety to life, the biggest commitment two people can make.”

              Shocked, Joss fell back against the mattress. 
He was serious
! His face full of hard, determined lines.  “Well,” she breathed. “Once again you’ve wowed me with yer figurative prose, but are you speakin’ truths, here?  I mean ... it’s so sudden—”

              “Look,” Carter cut in; he hadn’t moved a muscle. “If you don’t want to be my wife, then rip my fucking heart out and tell me no, but I know exactly what I want—you.  And I know how long I want you—forever.”

              Neither took their eyes off each other for what felt like an eternity, and Joss realized this proposal was bloody serious. Her good hand slowly glided up his sinuous arm and into his blonde hair, pushing it away from his gorgeous face. “Well then, find a justice of the peace, Carter Wayne, because you got yerself an ol ball and chain.” Deadpanned and frowning. “And the rhyme was not intended.”

              Carter shot upward to his knees and howled with delight, giving Joss a start and sending her into a fit of giggles.  “Yes!  Fuckin’ A right!  Who’s my woman?  Jocelyn
feckin’
Delilah, that’s who!” He fist pumped the air; his body tight with elation as if he’d just came out the victor in the biggest battle of his life.  Joss melted into the mattress, watching in giggling bliss at his joyous display.  She’d dreamt of a man who loved her so, and here he was in the flesh, thumping his chest and spewing caveman rhetoric about “his” woman.  She’d never imagined a marital proposal to the likes of this, yet it couldn’t have been more perfect.

              He then startled her again when he came crashing down upon her, meshing his mouth to hers and kissing her with the elation he felt.  “Right away,” he muttered between breaths.  “I’m not draggin’ this out.” More delicious kisses. “I want my name caboosed to the end of yours ASAP.” 

              Leah could only smile and laugh.  This just endeared him to her even more.  She didn’t care when, where, or how, just that the deed was done and the two would spend forever ...
together
.

Chapter 20

Marnie exhaled slowly and punched the code on the holding cell.  Sam had been back for four days now, and once again, she and Stuart had been assigned to his care.  Actually, she assigned herself, informing Mattis of this, which led to a late night counseling session from Reagan.  One filled with “don’t be stupid” comments, and “I’ll be monitoring you” threats. 

              Marnie didn’t don rose-colored glasses regarding Sam; she thoroughly understood his charade of a life with Patrice.  But that was just it, it was a charade—an act on Sam’s part.  The real Sam—the one she felt a vital connection to—was the guy who risked his own life for an agent’s.  Now, she only needed to sell everyone else on this.

              The door opened and she stalked inside with a breakfast platter in hand. Samuel sat cross ways on the twin bed, his back to the wall.

              “Morning,” he nodded. Once again shirt less in scrub bottoms. Only a rather large bandage covered a good portion of his pant-worthy chest.

              Marnie nodded in return, setting the tray down on the make shift table. “Sleep good?” she asked, facing him.

              Samuel rose, grunting a bit (as he refused pain killers) at the lingering pain from the gunshot wound that nearly claimed his life. He then stepped closer to Marnie and his arm jerked out and grabbed her by the front of her denim waistline, yanking her against his body.  Her arms instantly wrapped around his neck and his lips descended upon hers, which she met with needy abandon.

              Lord above, how she purred to the feeling of his sensuous lips dancing against her own.

              Initially, Marnie had every intention of fighting this crazy attraction—one that could cost her her job—but after knowing he’d jumped in the line of fire for her teammate and hearing him mutter her name in his near death state in the hospital, her intentions shifted from denial to acceptance of this insane fate. 

              Her attraction couldn’t be denied.  She would help him prove his sincerity to the agency, and she was also determined to assist him in deciphering his past.  Critical pieces of Sam Harding’s life were missing, ones that both she and Sam knew Patrice had answers to, and they were going to solve the puzzle through whatever means necessary.

              “Mmmm,” Sam moaned against her lips, pulling back. “I’d have slept a lot better if you’d been spooning my side.” He looked over her shoulder, contemplating. “I don’t recall ever cuddling up to a woman, but for some reason, it’s all I think about doing with you.”

              “Someday,” Marnie whispered. “Someday soon.”

              Sam’s face went dour, and he released her, stepping back. “Marnie, we’ve been over this, and I can’t ask that of you. What you and I are doing right now, we can stop, but if we escape and leave this place together, then I’ve just sentenced you to the life of a fugitive.”  His head shook as he stared at the floor. “I can’t do that.  I won’t.”

              Marnie stepped in, closing the distance he attempted to create.  She placed her hands on his hips. “I’m not saying that’s our only option. The agency is going to need your help to find Patrice—we might not have to turn to drastic measures.”

              “But,” he said. 

              Leah smiled. He hadn’t known her that long, yet he could already read her.  She chuckled at her pun, then asked, “Did you just read me?”

              He smirked, his fingers absently stroking her spine. “I didn’t need to—I can read your expression.”

              She sighed. “I’m just saying that if escape is inevitable then those are the lengths I’m willing to take.”

              His fingers continued their delicate stroke, and oh how she could get used to that.  “Why?” he asked, truly confounded.  He then added, “I mean, I could argue that your attraction to me is pure lust, causing you to make careless choices.”

              She shook her head. “But that’s not what this is, Sam.  Is it?”

              His eyes clamped shut.  He seemed almost pained to admit the truth.  “No.  Not by a long shot.”

              “Then don’t ever push me away for some noble need to save me.  Promise me this.”

              Sam cupped her cheek and leaned in for a kiss.  “If I wasn’t such a selfish bastard then that’s exactly what I’d do, but,” a pause, “I promise.”

    *     *     *     *

              Days had passed since the “exchange,” as Leah thought of it.  She sat next to Gracen in the chilly air on top of a picnic table near the outdoor shooting range.  Both sat in silence, looking upon the cedars and ponderosas that enclosed the division’s large headquarters.  It was beautiful here—a peaceful oasis.

              Leah linked her arm through Gracen’s and her head rested on his shoulder. “Thank you for last night.”

              “What?” Gracen said, canting his head. He’d been lost in thought as well.

              Leah kissed his cheek then let her head fall back down on his shoulder. “Making love to me.  Allowing me an escape for awhile.”

              “Baby, you don’t ever have to thank me for making love to you.”  His brows waggled, forcing her to actually smile. “It certainly isn’t a chore on my part.”

              He glanced out at the shooting range. “Good shooting this morning,” he noted, changing the conversation. They’d put their weapons through the rounds, needing to escape the intensity inside the four mammoth walls of the lodge.  The days since the “exchange” had been filled with nonstop intel gathering and meetings with various agency members and divisions across the globe.  All keeping their eyes and ears open for any sign of Landon activity. It had become priority number one to find Patrice and flush out anyone affiliated with her.

              Leah knew it was a mere matter of time before they got a bead, but damn, how her heart ached thinking of her cousin.

              They heard crunching from behind and both glanced over their shoulders. Mattis approached.

              “Anything new?” Gracen asked.

              Mattis grabbed an empty glock clip and began loading, probably just to keep his hands busy—helplessness ran rampant through the division.  “No.  Once Sam’s healed we’ll be back on the road though.  He’s listed a few suspect properties in Europe and the states.” A shrug. “We haven’t gotten reports of abnormal gifted activity in those areas, but they’re worth looking into.”

              Both Leah and Gracen nodded.

              Mattis grabbed an unloaded gun and checked the sights; he then spun back and faced them. “Leah, I know you’re a stressed out mess—guilt riding you hard, but I need to share a feeling I’ve got churning in my gut.”

              “And that is?” Leah said when he paused beyond what was normal in regular conversation.

              “You’re going to think I’m cracked, but I think a part of Bowen wanted to get caught.”

              “Explain,” Gracen added as Leah tensed up against him.  Her cousin had spent years of hell as their captive and then additional years forced to dodge them and hide out.
 
She knew he wanted vengeance but no one would willingly return to captivity.

              Mattis continued, “He never said anything point blank—that’s not Bowen’s MO—but I just got this funny feeling that he had unfinished business.”

              “Uh, sure he does,” Leah began. “He’d like to put a bullet between Patrice’s eyes.”

              “Sure, he’d like to end her, but that’s not who I’m talking about.”

              This got Leah to stand at attention.  Who was Mattis suspicious about?
 
“Elaborate, Mattis. What do you know?”

              Mattis sighed with frustration. “That’s just it; I don’t know jack.  This is all based on a hunch, but I kid you not, I’d back this hunch with King Midas’ gold.”

              Leah became exacerbated, standing up. “With who, Mattis? Who is this unfinished business with?”

              “Xandra," he blurted.
 

Leah was bowled over. "What?" she scoffed.

"Call me crazy, but his body reaction to her name alone or any discussions with her involvement were instant give aways. And that’s completely out of character for Bowen.” He locked on Leah. “Mark my words, Leah.  There’s a history there.  One I think he was itching to return to.”

Leah stood stumped by Mattis' suspicions, but one thing she'd learned about the gifted world—particularly her family—was never rule out a hunch.
 
Secrets plagued them, and she prayed if there was any validity to this, that Bowen knew what he was doing.

               
Epilogue

Mentally sore, Bowen laid in a double bed in small yellow bedroom.  It was bright, cheerful, and at complete odds with his current situation.  He gave a snort,
Patrice must be out of cells in dank basements to toss me here
.  From what he suspected, he’d been here at least a day, but time was hazy.  Patrice opted to drug him.  He was sure it was because she was low on hypnotics to bend his will—score one for the agency. 

              He lifted his head and instantly let it fall to the mattress. Pain shot through, leaving him cringing.  He hated being drugged, most gifted did.  His thoughts turned to Samuel, who’d willing chosen to drug himself for years, but then again, Bowen’d probably do the same if he’d been trapped in Patrice’s employ.