Bounty's End (Bounty for Hire) (8 page)

“God, you feel so good,” Thomas ground out, trying to not move as he allowed her to feel him, letting the anticipation build up. She gasped, a groan escaping her lips.

Thomas growled low and feral as he began to move faster with each thrust, pumping deep into her. He leaned forward, taking her nipple in his mouth, biting hard.

Thomas could feel her legs wrapping tighter around his thighs as he worked her with his cock and mouth.

* * *

He was amazing, perfect; this was just as she’d imagined it would be. She wanted to shut her eyes, but Thomas would not let her. Every time she started to close them, she could hear him say, “Look at me, baby” and he would chuckle as she opened her eyes.

It was all overwhelming between him going deep and licking her nipples from one to the other. Wen came so hard, harder than any other time she’d sex, that she was seeing white spots in her vision. All she could think about was hanging on to him for dear life. Feeling her nails claw in his back, she arched her back, allowing the ecstasy to roll off her body.

“That’s it, baby, let it go, Wen. Give me all of it…come again for me; come, baby…”

A scream leave her as she felt waves of orgasms hit her. She felt his kiss upon her lips sucking hers into his own mouth. As tired as she was, she readily gave control over to him.

She was moaning into his mouth, as he pumped faster, ripping his mouth away. Wen whimpered. She didn’t think she had anything else left in her body.

“Oh God, I can’t,” she hoarsely announced in the throes of ecstasy.

“Yeah, baby, you can. I know you have it in you. One more time for me, baby…” She felt him change direction. His thrusts were bigger and deeper. It was then that she looked up into his eyes and she knew that she would give him everything. He wanted one more time, and by god, she would give it to him. Arching into him, she released her orgasm as Thomas shuddered against her body.

* * *

Thomas was at a complete and utter loss. He knew she would be magnificent; but holy hell, that was phenomenal. Best of the best. Rolling off her body, he knew he needed to dispose of the condom, but in reality, all he wanted was to pull her back in his arms and hold her.

“You going to take care of that?” Wen asked.

But jeez, he didn’t have the breath to answer her. He had never worked so damn hard, nor had the pleasure to cum so hard.

“Yep,” was his response. Quickly discarding the condom, he turned to wrap Wen up in his arms. “So?” he said. He felt like a teenager and dammit all to hell, he was an adult.

“I have to say, Thomas, you sure know how to make a girl lose her mind.”

He laughed at that. So much for him holding back. The moment she curled her body against his, he knew there was no going back.

“Let’s get some sleep, huh?”

“Yeah; night, Thomas.”

“Night, Wen.”

With that, Thomas knew they both would sleep soundlessly ’till morning. Come morning, he would worry about his sister and what Alek had planned.

Chapter 11

Wen watched in the rear-view mirror as Thomas drove behind her car as she drove to Simply Antiques to get to work. The police had cleared the shop and her parents thought to close for a few days but Wen was against it. Between everything that was happening she just needed something, and being around the things she loved and the work she enjoyed, she told them she would run the shop while they headed up north a few hours an estate sale they heard about when she talked to them yesterday.

Thomas was against it, but soon realized that there was nothing he could say or do besides tie her up, and the hell if he would do that to her.

So he relented, but rumbled about it the whole time she was getting ready for work. A few kisses helped to ease the grumbling, but didn’t stop him from doing it.

Yet, here she was kissing him goodbye at the shop before he walked out of the door. His ringing phone broke them apart. She knew it was Alek, telling him that he needed Thomas.

After hanging up, Thomas proceeded to inform her of all the ways to that she needed to be careful.

The big dope.

Wen watched him leave, exhaling deeply as she watched as the front door shut. She wasn’t sure if she should freak out or jump up and down like a teenage girl and squeal in delight.

Either way, it was official. His words and tone solidified that they were together. One night together was not enough for Wen, and she was sure that it was not enough for Thomas either. Would it ever be enough? Was it possible to know after just one touch that you found
the
person? She didn’t know, and honestly didn’t care.

As the morning wore on, she felt a sense of blah taking over. Maybe Thomas and her parents were right and she didn’t need to be at work today. It was only an hour since Thomas had left. She sent him a text letting him know that she was going to go home, seeing as she was in no mood for the store, and she really needed to deal with her house.

His response was to ‘wait ’till he was done with Alek and then he would be over’. Of course, Wen was not having that. She knew that Thomas needed to be there for whatever was happening with Keylee. He needed to have his full attention on what was there, not her and her problems at the moment.

Once she got home, she texted Thomas to inform him that she was home and would be working in the basement. She also told him to call her, or use her spare house key that she’d left at his house earlier, and come over when he was done with his business with Alek and Keylee.

The windows and door and been replaced, and her living room was bare, but that was okay. At this time, Wen was not sure if she wanted to continue to rent the house or move. Moving meant moving away from Thomas and staying meant staying in a house where she felt a loss of security.

Deciding she needed to get her hands dirty, she stepped into her room to slip into her old yoga pants and work shirt. She then head down to the basement to do some finishing touches on one of the few pieces she was working on from the last estate sale her parents had gone to.

She loved this. They went shopping and brought her the rough and tough antiques to clean up and restore. It was one of the reasons her parent’s shop was so successful. The items might be antiques, but thanks to her love and care, the pieces were brought back to life. It made her happy to work on them and then to know someone else was going to love and cherish these items she spent so much time working on.

Her current project was a 1940s French country secretary desk. She had yet to start it because it too came with those clocks that were stolen. That thought paused her in her steps as she walked down to her basement after changing her clothes.

Was it the whole batch of items that came from that house or just the clocks, she began to wonder? She knew the police had been in her basement and they reported that nothing was wrecked. Taking in a deep breath, she felt more calm as she figured it had to be just the clocks. She prayed it was just the clocks. Hell.

Now she was freaking herself out.
Calm down, girl. It’s just your imagination
.

She knew it was ridiculous, but still, the thought was there. Flipping on the light at the end of the stairs, she stared into her workspace. Two wooden tables stood off to the right, each holding cups, plates, pictures and other assortments of items. To the left was her current project—the desk. It stood just a few feet away from her working desk that held her paints, brushes, thinner, and primer as well as anything else she could think of for restoring items.

Sitting down in her chair, she turned to her iPod and scrolled through her music selection. Deciding on Mozart, she hit play and allowed his notes to take over. Turning toward the antique desk, she leaned in, trying to get a sense of where to start. The desk was already beautiful, but held some scratches as well as fading paint. Someone had painted the desk and it was pretty, but it screamed for something else. The old desk had one drawer, two lower cabinets and a fold down desk with eleven small compartments and two very small interior drawers. She had yet to go through all the small compartments. Figuring that was just as a good place as any to start, she took special care in removing the drawer and the two lower cabinet doors. Then she folded the desk down and looked at the small compartments. She carefully pulled out the two very small drawers and set them aside.

Time passed quickly for her. So engaged with the work, she barely heard the shuffle coming from above her. Glancing up at the old alarm clock, she noticed she had been home for just two hours though her body was screaming that it had been longer. Thinking it was Thomas returning, she turned her music even lower and stood up. She had been on her hands and knees carefully removing the old paint from the desk. She needed to see the beauty of the desk before she felt she could really do the old girl right.

Thinking it would be funny to call Thomas from downstairs, she reached for her phone. After three rings, she heard his voice.

“Yeah, babe.”

“You sure are making a lot of noise upstairs. If you’re looking for—”

“Wen, what are you talking about?” he interjected before she finished her sentence.

“You’re in my house,
right
?” It was then she heard him swear.

Oh God, it wasn’t him.

“Wen, where are you? Where is Peaches? Is she with you?”

“No. I’m in the basement and she’s at your house,” she whispered.

“Shit.” The slur of words just kept coming from her phone as she listened to several footfalls above her head.

“Thomas, they’re talking,” she informed him.

“Shit, listen, baby, I am over at Alek’s. He’s on the phone with Anthony right now. He’s directing him to your house as we speak. Stay where you are. I’m heading over.”

“Did you check the basement?” A man’s asked from the basement door.

“Thomas, they’re coming down here,” she whispered into her phone.

“Jesus Christ, Wen, hide. I don’t care where, just fucking hide and no matter what, don’t come out until it’s safe. Don’t be a hero.”

Hide? He wanted to her to hide? Where the hell was she going to hide? Quickly glancing around, she saw the small opening behind her stairs that she used as storage. Quickly and as quietly as she could, she made her way toward the stairs just as the basement door opened.

“Wonder where the bitch is.”

“Who the fuck cares. We just need to find that stash and get out of here before you know who pays us a call. I swear, man, this was not what I signed up for.”

Wen still held her phone to her ear. All the while these thieves talked, Thomas was in her ear telling her it was going to be okay, that Anthony and he and his boys were on the way.

She understood this, but it didn’t stop the tremors that raked her body as the two men looked around her basement. She was fine hiding, until they walked up to the desk. She stilled.

Please, don’t touch it, please don’t touch it
.

Then she saw the dark-haired thief lift up his leg. It was then that she lost it. She knew she should have stayed hidden. She knew that it was best for them to destroy the desk; however, every inch in her body gave way and pushed her forward. She came out from under the stairs, dropping the phone, running headfirst into the blond idiot that was standing off to the side of the desk. With her fists balled, she pushed her arms out using them as momentum to take him down. Catching him off guard, he went flying into the air sailing toward the large pole in the center of her basement. Hearing his head hit against the pole, she turned her attention to the dark-haired thief, who was now facing her with a gun in his hand.

“Listen,” Wen said, putting her hands out in front of her body. “Leave. Just get out of here.”

“Bitch, please.” Wen saw that the thief was a boy. Well not so young; she figured he was around seventeen–eighteen maybe.

The thief continued, “You have any idea what he’ll do to me? I’m already fucked because I hid the shit in my neighbor’s stuff thinking… You know, I don’t think I should be talking to you.”

“Really, leave; I don’t care. I…”

Wen heard the heavy footfalls rushing above her at the same time the dark-haired boy was staring up at the ceiling. It was as if they were tracking each step that came near. When the footfalls paused, they both jumped in surprise at the boom of voices echoing near the basement door.

“Shit. I’m royally fucked. All of this because of my god damn brother. I swear…” His voice was erratic as he raised the gun in the air toward ceiling in frustration.

The kid didn’t have time to finish his sentence as two officers held guns at the top of the stairs, which was just behind Wen. She knew it was two, because she heard the distinct clicks of two guns proceeded by, “Freeze!” in two very different rough voices as they came down the steps.

Oh God, this was not how she wanted the day to end.

Did she dare do it? Was it the right thing?

Ever so slowly, Wen turned her body to face the officers. Rule number one—never turn your back on a person holding a gun to your body. Number two—never, ever do what she was about to do.

Seeing that one of the officers with the gun was Anthony, Wen ever so sweetly said, “Hey, Anthony. Listen, my friends here were just leaving.”

Like that was going to really work, but hey, she had to try.

“Yeah, I’m sure, Wen, really sure. Listen, kid, put the gun down and lets walk out of here, okay?”

Something must have happened, because Anthony holstered his pistol and took a step to the side of Wen and walked to the boy.

“Wen? Wen, god dammit, you better be alive for fucks sake, because I will haunt you in your death if you’re not.”

Everyone flinched as the stone cold shout came from above. She watched as Thomas made his presence known by stomping down each step as hard as he could.

“Thomas, buddy, we got her,” Anthony said as he walked past her.

Placing her hand on boy’s arm, stopping Anthony in his tracks, Wen simply asked, “Would you have killed me?”