Outlaw Derek (12 page)

But when the explosion came, it was triumph rather than defeat, lifting her in a violent rush to some distant place that was nothing but mind-numbing pleasure. She hadn’t known such feelings were possible, and the wonder nearly stopped her heart.

The calm that finally descended over her was a fleeting thing, because Derek’s caresses began building tension again. Dazed, she felt the return of that slow, throbbing pulse inside her, and the strength of renewed need flowed back into her boneless limbs. Caught up in what was happening, she was only vaguely aware that he had paused briefly to reach into the nightstand
drawer, and even though her mind understood what he was doing, she wasn’t troubled by the ramifications of his action.

She caught her breath when he moved over her, feeling an instant’s panic, a smothering sensation because he was so big and blotted out the light, because she felt so vulnerable. But then he was kissing her deeply, hungrily, and panic vanished. Her legs cradled him, and she felt a hard, blunt pressure, gentle but insistent. She caught at his shoulders as he raised his head, a distant echo of shock passing through her at the instinctive feminine realization of an alien intruder.

His face. She was mesmerized by his face. It was taut, hard, beautiful. Primitive, as if all the civilized layers had been stripped away from him by need. His dark eyes blazed down at her, and she saw now that the curious flecks of color were a deep, rich blue, sapphire glints in the darkness they shone out of. She felt an odd, jarring surprise when she realized that, a strange intensity of emotion that washed over her in a hard wave.

“I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart,” he said thickly, braced above her in tense stillness, feverish eyes fixed on her face.

And in that moment, without thought, she trusted him in the most simple, intimate, primitive way a woman could ever trust a man. With no hesitation, she trusted him with her vulnerability. The smile that curved her lips was as old as the caves.

Derek almost groaned aloud when he saw that trust shining in her amber eyes, and understood what it meant. It was more than he had dared to hope for, and his heart lurched when she offered it willingly. He could destroy that trust if he hurt her, he knew. But if trust remained intact when the morning and the world intruded, that slender but tempered steel bond forged in the blazing heat of their passion could very well turn out to be his only lifeline.

“Shannon,” he whispered, lowering his head to kiss her very tenderly.

“You won’t hurt me,” she murmured, her
arms encircling his neck as she sought to draw him down to her.

Derek did groan then, and it was a rough sound edged with harsh strain as he fought to control his ravening need for her. He moved with exquisite care, gritting his teeth at the sheer pleasure of entering her body with such restraint. The searing tightness of her was a caress that sent his senses spinning wildly, snatching at his control until he felt torn in two, rent by the terrible conflict of savage need and tender love.

Shannon could see that conflict in his face, even as her body struggled to adjust to his slow possession. She could feel the instinctive shock of her body, the resistance, but there was no pain. He was filling her, stretching her, satisfying the emptiness that had ached for him. A momentary intruder, he became a part of her so smoothly that her body accepted him totally.

Derek was still, his breathing a rasping sound, searching her face intently for any sign of pain. “Shannon?” he whispered.

She looked up at him with wide, awed eyes, and her arms tightened slowly around his neck as she felt the throbbing power of him deep inside her. “I’m … fine,” she murmured after searching briefly for another word, a better word to tell him how wonderful she felt. Without her volition, her body moved, lifting to have more of him as tension coiled and demanded again.

A harsh sound escaped from Derek as his body responded instantly to her. He wanted to be careful and every muscle was tense with the effort as he answered her movements with his own, setting up a slow rhythm that escalated swiftly beyond any control he could have claimed. Her body sheathed his with a molten tightness that seared away caution, and her equally wild response drove both of them past the limits of mastery.

Shannon gloried in his strength and hers, meeting his increasingly powerful thrusts with her own lithe force as the hot, spiraling tension coiled inside her. His fiery kisses possessed her
even as his body did, demanding, hungry, taking her. And she took as well, insisting with a woman’s silent, soul-deep need that he be hers, at least for tonight.

The firestorm of passion swept over them both, catching them, flinging them savagely into a bottomless well of mindless pleasure that tore a wordless cry from her and a rasping groan from him, joining them in an instant, making them one in that brief, timeless interlude that occurs only rarely between mortals.

Shannon came back to the awareness of her existence as a separate being very slowly, and the heavy heat of his body over hers helped ease the shock of transition. In a moment of clarity, she realized that never, as long as she lived, would she forget that brief, stark instant of sharing. Her trembling hands moved over his powerful back and shoulders, and she smiled when he lifted his head to gaze down at her.

Derek eased up onto his elbows, and his hands framed her face gently. One thumb brushed the swollen curve of her lower lip, and a slight frown drew his brows together. “Was I too rough, sweetheart? I didn’t want to be.” His voice was husky.

Shannon’s smile widened. “No.” She lifted a hand to touch his cheek. “No.”

He wanted to ask: was it a mistake? But he didn’t. He knew that only the morning, and the mornings to follow, would answer the question. He turned his head to kiss her soft palm, and then sought her lips almost blindly, wishing he could stop time, stop the world. Wishing he could transport them both instantly to some deserted island where no one would bother them and she wouldn’t be able to run away from him when morning came.

“Derek?” She was a little puzzled, a little anxious, bothered by something she felt in him, something that seemed alien to what she knew of him. Derek afraid? No. No, not him.

He smiled suddenly, those sapphire-flecked dark eyes glowing down at her. “You’re so lovely, Shannon.”

And she smiled slowly in return, forgetting anxiety. For once, just this once, she believed him. “Thank you.”

Still smiling, he eased away from her and got them both under the covers, making her giggle because he mildly cursed a stubborn blanket, and because he very solemnly arranged them both beneath the covers so that he could hold her “just right” during the night.

Shannon fell asleep still smiling, cradled in his arms, listening to his heart beat.

She woke twice in the night to the vague thought that he certainly wasn’t getting the rest he needed, but not about to protest his renewed desire. Both times he assumed responsibility for their lovemaking, and both times she took note of that without thinking about it very much. She was too wrapped up in the fire he ignited to allow for much thinking.

Even in the heat of passion, Shannon had known morning would come, and that she would have to face him and herself, have to accept and understand what she had done. But she wasn’t prepared for morning to arrive with a breathless shock of interruption that cut them apart with the deadly swiftness of a knife.

She felt Derek move before she heard anything, and the tension she sensed in him brought her wide awake. She was sitting up even as he slid from the bed, clutching the sheet to her breasts and blinking in a sudden awareness of the soft buzzing sound that was coming from a little box she hadn’t noticed on the nightstand at his side of the bed.

That nightstand, she thought vaguely. Damn that nightstand. She wondered idly why she was damning the unoffending piece of furniture, but she wasn’t ready to think about consequences yet, and the subject escaped her.

“Derek?” It was a whisper, a plea for him to tell her everything was all right.

He didn’t answer. She wasn’t even sure he heard her. Face taut and expressionless, unconcerned with or even unaware of his nakedness, he moved swiftly and silently to the rolltop desk, opening it to reveal two portable television sets where the cubbyholes should have been. He turned both on, and Shannon caught a glimpse of grainy pictures, shadows and gray light and stealthy movements. It was only in the instant he moved aside and reached to turn the sets off that she recognized in the pictures the front of the building they were in.

“Get dressed, Shannon.” His voice was soft and hard at the same time. “We have company. It’ll take them a while to get through the downstairs doors—we’ll slip out while they’re busy with that.”

She slid from the bed instantly, aware of a leaden coldness filling her. And, as he began swiftly gathering his clothes and dressing, she felt a wave of embarrassment at her own nudity. Her hands seemed to be all thumbs, and she
concentrated fiercely on what she was doing, shoving her pajamas into the bag Derek had given her and snatching out underthings, jeans, and a thick sweater. Her eyes were burning and her throat hurt, and she dressed with shaking hands.

Morning had arrived.

Derek wanted to reassure her, and the bitterness of what was happening tore at him. It was
wrong
. They should have had time, time to be lovers. He could have helped her ease into the unfamiliar situation, could have avoided the tense embarrassment he saw in her averted face. Instead, she was being jerked rudely from their bed, and the cold necessity of that was hurting her in a way no woman should ever be hurt.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

There was no time to make it easier for her. He couldn’t even go to her and hold her, because there was no time. He silently, viciously damned the man responsible, and knew that if he ever
got his hands around the bastard’s neck he’d choke the life out of him.

“I’m ready.” Her voice was soft, toneless. She had sat on the bed to pull on socks and running shoes, and now stood and reached for her packed bag.

Derek took it from her, holding hers and his own in one hand. His free arm encircled her abruptly, and he hugged her hard. “It’s all right, sweetheart,” he promised quietly, making an effort even over the urgency he felt not to sound as sharp and businesslike as before. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

“Yes, I know.” Her voice was still toneless, and she wouldn’t look at him.

No time. Dammit, no time! He led her to the closet and his escape hatch, guiding her firmly, instructing her when necessary. They were soon moving quietly through a narrow tunnel lit only by the flashlight he carried.

Idly, Shannon counted their steps; she had reached fifty when they made a right turn. Fifty
more steps and they had reached a ladder. Obeying his low-voiced command, she waited at the bottom of the steps, holding the flashlight, until he came back for her. Then she followed him up.

They emerged inside a building crowded with unidentifiable machinery, hulking in shadows. A gray dawn light struggled to penetrate the high, dirty windows. The flashlight had been left behind them in the tunnel and Shannon could hardly see, but Derek was holding her hand and that was enough. She felt numb.

Derek had started toward what seemed to be a door, but he stopped suddenly, and she could feel his tension, could literally feel his senses flaring out in a sudden probing search. And Shannon wasn’t really surprised to see a tall figure step from behind some of the machinery, because Derek had somehow known he was there.

“It’s been a long time, Derek.” The man’s voice was low, calm but guarded.

S
HANNON STILL FELT
Derek’s tension, but it was lessening, or somehow different, and his voice was soft and guarded as well.

“Prague, wasn’t it?”

A quiet laugh came from the tall man. “You left me in a very difficult situation, my friend.”

“The fortunes of war, Alexi,” Derek responded a bit dryly.

“Yes. And how well we know them, eh?”

There was a moment of silence, and then
Derek said, “You aren’t with them.” It was a statement of fact.

“No,” the man named Alexi agreed.

“How did you find this?”

The man took the question literally, as Derek had obviously intended. “You always plan a way out. This seemed the most likely spot.”

Derek nodded. “I see.”

There was another silence, and then the man said, “I need a white flag, Derek.”

“All right.” Derek’s agreement was instant. “When and where?”

“There is a park a mile west of your apartment. A gazebo by the lake. In three hours.”

Derek inclined his head slightly. “I’ll be there.”

Without another word, the man melted back into the shadows. And Derek never even glanced toward those shadows as he led Shannon past them and out of the building.

He was still holding her hand, guiding her firmly between two more buildings, down an alley, across a street. He said nothing, and Shannon,
bewildered by his terse, cryptic exchange with the strange man, remained silent as well.

Still numb, she felt suspended, as if nothing that was happening was real. This wasn’t the man who had trembled with need in the night, the man who had made love to her so tenderly and passionately. This was another man, a terse, impersonal man with an animal’s instincts for danger and a professional’s instant response to that danger.

And she wasn’t, she realized with a sense of grief, the woman who had given herself so passionately. That woman belonged to the night, had fled in the gray light of morning. She was just Shannon again, alone and afraid. Or was she? There was something more now, she thought, something different. But she was too numb to try to understand.

They walked a careful path in shadows between buildings for nearly half an hour, until Derek stopped by another somewhat battered car. Detached, she watched him unlock the door,
and asked mildly, “Just how many cars do you have, anyway?”

He looked down at her, hesitated, and then shrugged. “A few. Get in, honey.”