Fever (3 page)

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Authors: Joan Swan

BOOK: Fever
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“Don’t fuck with him.” Creek’s hold loosened. “The quieter you are, the less trouble you cause, the better this will go.”
She opened her eyes and looked at him. His gaze darted to her cheek, then away, scanning the parking lot, as if her suffering meant absolutely nothing to him.
Primal anger sank deep and overlaid the fear. She’d be quiet all right. And in the silence, she’d watch. And wait. And plan.
T
WO
W
ith a solid grasp on the girl’s upper arm, Teague dragged her into the shadows of an overhang outside the hospital. The chilled air bathed his burning skin. Inwardly, he took a moment to appreciate the sensation, grateful for the city’s distinctive evening mist.
He pressed his back against the cool brick building and pulled her in front of him for cover, focusing his mind to control the body heat that had winged out of his control. Not a great start. His heart knocked so hard and high in his chest, he thought it would choke him. If he didn’t slow his breathing, he’d hyperventilate.
Luckily, hardly anyone ventured to this side of the hospital but prison guards and inmates, and he and Taz were the last trip of the day. Teague had pulled every last favor he’d accumulated in prison to get right here, right now.
It amazed him how a city the size of San Francisco could have so many dead spaces where few people ever tread. But when he’d started looking for them months ago during other outings, he’d been surprised to find them everywhere—walkways, alcoves, or alleys between soaring buildings, like the one they were in now.
In a side parking lot, the GTO’s engine rumbled to life. Tires squealed.
“Idiot,” Teague mumbled. “Let’s just fucking advertise.”
The adrenaline raging through his body made him nauseous. Or maybe it was the welt on the girl’s face that made him sick to his stomach. Or the burns on her neck. Or the blood trail.
He couldn’t even remember her damn name. Emma? Anna? Something sweet and passive, just the kind of woman Luke always seduced. Only this woman was neither sweet nor passive, although she was a beauty. A goddamned, exotic Barbie-doll, wet-dream beauty. At least that part of Luke’s criteria hadn’t changed while Teague had been rotting in prison the last three years.
The bright red, chain-shaped scars on her smooth, sun-kissed skin looked like a twisted S&M necklace. He couldn’t stand the sight.
You’re burning me
. The memory of the pain in her voice nagged. None of this was her fault, other than her lousy taste in boyfriends.
Teague flexed the fingers of his free hand, took a slow, deep breath and focused. He settled his fingertips over the burns at one side of her neck and slid them slowly across her fried skin. She stiffened at his touch and strained against his hold.
A sizzling current of mellow heat ebbed from his fingertips and melted into her flesh. He knew the instant the relief registered by the way her spine softened and her eyelids drifted closed. Her spidery black lashes curved against cheeks flushed bright and hot. Teague had the deepest urge to press his mouth to the corner of one eye and let her skin sizzle across his lips.
He repressed the random thought just as he had all such longings that surfaced during his years in prison. The progression of his fingers transitioned the burnt tissues from chafed, angry red to plump, irritated pink.
So soft. Even damaged, her skin was so incredibly soft. How long had it been since he’d felt a woman’s skin against his? Three years? Four? He’d lost count. Something about touching her made his mind haze in a very dangerous way under the circumstances. With her, under any circumstances.
Sensations seemed to boomerang back at him. Enticing currents drifted down his arm, through his chest and straight to his groin, pumping blood to a part of his body that had no business being aroused.
He steered his mind toward curling his fingers into his palm, stepping back, and looking away. But before he did, her head tilted, as if she could barely hold it up, and her cheek eased to his shoulder. Her body swayed, hips curving forward and crushing their joined hands between her soft pelvis and his aching dick. A geyser of lust blasted up his chest and out his limbs. He shuddered. The muscles in his legs went lax. Pleasure blurred the edges of his mind.
Oh, no. Hell, no.
Some part of his sesame-seed-sized brain evidently still worked. Teague nudged her backwards and steadied himself on the building with his free hand. He had no idea if he looked disinterested on the outside because he was a mega fireworks display gone awry on the inside.
“Stand up, for God’s sake.” He pushed her back another step. “Don’t pull any fainting bullshit. We still have a long way to go.”
God help him.
Her lids fluttered fully open. She stared at him with those eyes, some curious color between sand and hazel. They were a little dazed, a little confused and plenty suspicious, but they were most definitely not afraid. And, yeah, he may have been out of the game for years now, but he couldn’t mistake that edge of lusty heat, even if it was now fading. Quickly.
Taz steered the hot rod to a stop alongside them. Grateful for the diversion, Teague swung the back door open and tugged on the girl’s cuffs. The motion seemed to knock her back into reality, back into that little spitfire she’d been inside the hospital. She pulled, yanked, kicked, twisted like a frigging pretzel.
“Dammit.” He fought to get a solid grip on the squirming target without hurting her. “What did I just tell you?”
With one good yank, she popped her arm from his grip. And ran.
“Fuck.” Teague took off after her. And shit, she was fast. She headed toward the front of the hospital, toward Di-visidero, the busiest street in the goddamned city. If she made it to the sidewalk, he’d lose her. If he lost her, he might as well just cuff himself and walk right back into prison.
She reached a grass patch near the southeast corner of the building. Before she broke into public view, Teague lunged. He clipped her around the waist with one arm and broke their fall with the other.
The GTO rumbled up next to them, door still open, Taz yelling, “Kill her or leave her.”
Teague sure as hell wasn’t leaving her. He fisted her scrub top and yanked. Smoke plumed from beneath his fingers. When he made a move to hoist her by the waist, she thrust her head back. Her skull connected with his cheekbone. Pain exploded behind his eye, traveled up his temple and gripped his brain. But he didn’t let go. He kept his fingers wrapped in that fabric, because it wasn’t
as if
his life depended on keeping her—it
absolutely
depended on keeping her.
“You little witch.” The thin scrub fabric disintegrated in his hand and he lost his grip. He bent at the knees, tossed her over his shoulder and shoved her into the car, then slid in beside her. The vehicle skidded out of the parking lot before Teague got the door closed.
“We don’t need her anymore,” Taz yelled. “And I don’t want a piece of ass bad enough to keep that cunt-eyed bitch around.”
“Shut up and drive.” Teague wiped at the warmth sliding down his face and pulled his hand back covered in a mixture of sweat and blood.
He leaned across the seat and slammed the lock on the girl’s door with his fist. Even after years of effort, he still couldn’t harness the heat that came with anger. His healing powers needed work, too, but at least those he could control.
Her hair had come loose from the ponytail and fell everywhere. It was long and straight and nearly solid black but for a bittersweet chocolate undercurrent in the natural light. Her face looked so much softer, so much more innocent with the soft strands framing the high cheekbones and little nose. And those eyes seemed even more piercing with the new contrast.
Teague retreated to his own side of the car. He needed to clear his head and think. All things considered, this had gone pretty well—aside from getting beat up by a goddamned girl, of course.
Hannah
. That was her name. And nothing about her had worked out quite right. He had to admit, the tape over her mouth had been a brilliant move on Taz’s part. No doubt she’d be smacking up a whirlwind if she weren’t gagged.
“Where to, boss?” Taz grinned over his shoulder as he turned onto the freeway. “We can dump her somewhere off Highway Five. That’ll give you time to get your fill. Don’t worry, I won’t look.” He laughed. “Much, anyway.”
Teague rubbed a hand over his face. For the love of God, that was the very last thing he needed to be thinking about. Even an impromptu sprint and a cracked cheekbone hadn’t cooled him down.
He cast a look at Hannah to gauge her reaction to the threat. She tossed her head to get the messy strands out of her eyes and watched him with a look that clearly said, “try it and I’ll kick your teeth in.” How could such a small woman, handcuffed and gagged, look so ... formidable? Why couldn’t she have turned out to be Luke’s typical fragile-flower type?
Maybe, after two years of living without Keira, Luke had finally realized his mistake. Maybe he’d pulled his head out of his ass—at least in one area of his life—and was reverting back to the type of woman he belonged with.
Stupid thought. Luke wasn’t that evolved.
The girl’s hands lifted toward her face, distracting Teague from his thoughts. He pointed at her with one rigid finger. “Don’t touch that tape.”
Without taking her eyes off him, she ran her fingers over the newly healed skin of her neck. The I’ll-kick-your-teeth-in expression transitioned into what the fuck? Teague knew what came next: You’re a freak. He’d seen it before, and he didn’t want to see it again.
He turned away and watched the streets flash by his window. Dusk came early to the city with the sun falling behind skyscrapers. Funny, he didn’t feel any different. He didn’t feel free. Probably because he was still a long way from what any sane man would consider
free
.
“Just stick with the original plan for now,” Teague said. “Turn on the radio to the local news and head for the Bay Bridge. Is the money in the glove box?”
“Yep.” Taz held up a wad of folded bills two inches thick.
“And the clothes?” Teague scooted forward to look in the front seat.
Taz lifted the brown grocery bag with a C scribbled on the outside, and tossed it to Teague. “That’s yours.”
Teague nearly drooled as he rummaged through the contents. Brand new Levi’s, crisp T-shirts with cool logos like NASCAR, Harley Davidson, Hurley and Volcom. Packages of boxer briefs, snow-white socks and lightweight suede work boots. “I never thought I’d get so excited over clothes.”
At the bottom, Teague felt plastic and pulled out a Ziploc baggie filled with toiletries: soap, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, razors and ... condoms. Lots of condoms.
He cast a sidelong look at Hannah. She was inspecting the cuffs on her wrists. Probably trying to figure a way out of them. Teague had spent his three years in prison honing his abilities in an effort to bend metal with hopes of getting out of those irons. The closest he’d gotten was transference, the kind that had burned Hannah. Useless and pathetic.
But he was glad she was preoccupied now, because it gave him a moment to shove the bag back beneath the clothes and try to clear his head. ’Cause what filled his brain when he looked at those condoms was clear all right. Crystal clear.
A pristine fantasy of him lying naked in the middle of a big, comfortable bed with her equally as naked, straddling his lap with a sexy smile on that beautiful face instead of that perpetual scowl. Her hair fell forward over her shoulders as she split the foil condom wrapper with her teeth. Popped the latex securely between those full lips. Rolled it over his extended length with her mouth. Seated it in place with a suction that made his hands clench the sheets and his body arc off the mattress. Molded it to every rib of his dick with mercilessly confident strokes of those long, lean fingers before taking him deep inside her body and riding them both into ripping ecstasy.
Blistering lust hit him square in the solar plexus and spread to his groin, where his blood ran hot. His eyes fell closed. He dropped his chin to his chest. The universe was against him. That had to be it.
Sweat slid down his cheek, slipped off his jaw and hit the back of his hand. The irritation dragged him back to the second-to-last place he ever wanted to be. This was a fucking nightmare. He had a hard-on for a woman who was sleeping with a man who’d once been Teague’s best friend. A man who’d once been someone Teague would have died to protect. A man who’d ultimately betrayed Teague in the worst possible way.
Thoughts of the past and all that had gone wrong eased the sexual ache. He dragged jeans, underwear, socks and a T-shirt from the bag. “What about the girl’s stuff?”
With a disgusted scowl, Taz chucked another, smaller bag into the back. It hit Hannah in the face and dropped in her lap. “Should just strip her naked and leave her that way.”
Shit
. That was not an image Teague needed in his mind. Not after having their bodies plastered together for the last half hour. He already swore he knew every damn curve she had. Every damn perfect curve.
Don’t go there.
“Change your clothes.” He snapped the order without looking at her, leaning down to unlace his prison-issue work boots. He needed to keep his eyes off that side of the car. Avert his mind from the fact that she was getting naked only a foot away.
He rattled the thoughts from his head with a hard shake, tugged off the boots and socks, then checked her progress from his peripheral vision. She hadn’t moved.

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