Warrior's Heart: Iron Portal Series (Paranormal Romance) (10 page)

“You lied to me, Vince,” she said softly in his ear.

Pushing up on his elbows, he looked down at her face. Her raven hair was splayed out across the pillow, her lips were flushed and swollen, and her cheeks had that rosy I-just-had-sex glow.

Holy hell, she was ravishing.

“What are you talking about?”

“You told me you didn’t want a cupcake.”

“Excuse me?”

She nibbled on his lip, drawing it between her teeth. “But from what I taste, I can tell that you’ve already had one.”

Z
ara woke to a featherlike
, almost ticklish sensation on her belly, and she became aware of a solid wall of heat pressed against her from behind.

Vince. He was spooning her, his broad hand gently rubbing her stomach.

She couldn’t believe he was still here. She’d grown used to waking up and finding him gone.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and rumbly.

She yawned. “What time is it?”

He swept her hair from her shoulder and kissed her neck. “It’s still early.”

The intimate details of their marathon lovemaking session flooded her mind. If she counted correctly, she’d had at least four pretty mind-blowing orgasms.

His hand slipped lower, confidently skimming her body as if it were his own, and delved into her moist cleft.

“Vince!” She gasped at his boldness.

The hard length of his erection pressed into her backside, a clear indicator of his intention.

“I probably can’t do it again so soon,” she said.

His mouth quirked. “After last night, you have doubts that I can satisfy you?”

“For one thing, we don’t have any more condoms.”

“Easily solved,” he murmured huskily. “I’ll run to the men’s bathroom in the garage and get a few more from the vending machine. What color do you want—or should I surprise you?”

She shouldn’t be surprised at his willingness to do whatever it took. Going a decade without sex had to make you a little crazy.

“I’m…ah…a little sore down there. I’m going to need a little time. Is that okay?”

His hand stilled. “I hurt you?”

She rolled to her back and looked up at his face. His brows were two dark slashes of concern on his forehead.

“It’s not that,” she said, reaching up to stroke his jaw. ”It’s just that…well, I’m not used to having so much sex in such a short period of time.”

He was silent for a moment as he considered what she’d said. “Would my tongue hurt?”

A thrill ran down her spine, but then she thought about that first night in the shower. “No, it wouldn’t hurt. Not at all. But let me put my mouth on you first.”

“No.”

She was confused. Didn’t all men love it? “Why not?”

“We can do it at the same time.”

And before she could put two and two together, he pulled her on top of him so that she was straddling his face; his thick, heavy erection lay on his belly in front of her.

Whoa.

Strong fingers gripped her thighs and his thumbs gently opened her folds. One flick of his tongue had her shuddering from head to toe.

She slipped her mouth over the broad head of his penis and took him in as far as she could. He groaned beneath her, his voice vibrating over her most sensitive parts.

Her toes curled as intense pleasure quickly spiraled through her, but the sensation was almost too much. She tried to arch her hips away from him to get a reprieve, but his iron grip kept her rooted in place. She’d have cried out if she could have, so instead she sucked on him harder.

A vicious curse escaped his lips. “Zara…I’m…almost…there.” Now it was his turn to try to pull away from her.

Nope. Not going to happen.

She tapped his thigh to let him know it was okay to release into her mouth.

His shaft pulsed and he nearly roared, spurting hot seed in the back of her throat. When they were done, she fell next to him on the pillow, her whole body like mush, the juncture between her thighs still tingling.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I’m—that was— Yeah. Doing well.”

Yep. That about summed it up for her, too.

With her arm flung over her face, her heart rate slowly returned to normal. Vince snored and rolled to his side.

Was he finally worn out? Maybe five times was the charm. An oral sex
coup de grace
.

She couldn’t get over how volatile he was. Cold as ice one moment, then attentive as hell the next. The silvery scars crisscrossing his back drew her attention again, reminding her of the pain and suffering he’d endured. Reaching out, she gingerly ran her fingertips over the raised flesh.

He’d been infuriated at the thought that she might be leaving, but the fact of the matter was, she couldn’t stay here forever. She had a life beyond Reckless. A job that paid the bills. A son she desperately missed.

Even though she was still euphoric over making love with Vince after all this time, it was tempered by disappointment that he still hadn’t mentioned Darius again. Wouldn’t a man be eager to meet the boy he’d fathered?

Vince had been right about one thing. They couldn’t just start up where they’d left off. They were two different people now. His time in prison had obviously changed him. She was a mother, and her first priority had to be her son. She couldn’t sit around, waiting and hoping that Vince would figure things out. And when he did, she couldn’t assume that she and Darius would be included.

The old Zara could have waited—the young, idealistic Zara with no real responsibilities. But the new Zara couldn’t.

If he had no interest in being a father to their son, then a relationship with him would be next to impossible, no matter how much she still wanted him.

A
single headlight
cut a swath through the darkness as Vince drove the Harley onto a quiet street.

The day after the raid had been uneventful. He’d done some more gravel work with the backhoe and Zara had helped Rand’s office manager with some project.

Guilt pricked at his conscience that he was again doing something that she would not want him to do.

The houses in this part of New Seattle were few and far between with long driveways that disappeared into the woods. You could only see a few of them from the road, and of those, several had old cars parked out front on overgrown lawns. It was the kind of place where people minded their own business and didn’t give a shit what their neighbors were doing.

He parked the borrowed bike near a clump of blackberry bushes and jogged down a narrow path that wound into the trees. If his research was correct, this should lead to a small trailer park on the edge of the Sammamish Slough, a slow-moving channel that joined Lake Sammamish and Lake Washington.

But more importantly, about a quarter of a mile downstream from the trailer park was a private golf course. And on the fourteenth hole, overlooking the sand trap, was a stately mansion that just happened to be owned by Dr. Uri Dobrynin.

Vince picked up the pace, knowing that every step was bringing him closer to the justice he craved.

His backpack was heavy and he had to reposition it every few steps. When he emerged from the trees a few minutes later, immediately to his left was a weathered sign that welcomed him to the Lakeshore Mobile Home Park.

Yes, just as he had hoped.

A yappy dog barked as he hurried between two trailers and headed for the water. His backpack hit a wind chime that clanged loudly, and he cringed.

Who hangs those things so low?

He waited, trying to figure out what to say if someone were to come outside and find him here. Dressed in all black with a dark backpack, he didn’t exactly look as though he belonged. But when no one came out, he continued on his way.

Below the bulkhead on the slough were a dozen or so small docks for the residents. Vince took a quick scan and found what he was looking for. A small metal rowboat was tied to one of them.

Bingo.

He jumped from the bulkhead and in four steps he was at the end of the dock. The boat’s lines were waterlogged and covered in moss from disuse, which was making them hard to untie. Screw it. He’d have to cut them. He’d just severed the first one when the nearest trailer’s porch light came on.

Damn it. He was a sitting duck out here.

Climbing into the tippy boat, he crouched between the metal seats where it smelled of dead fish and hoped that anyone looking out would not be able to see him.

A rapid series of high-pitched barks filled the air. Raising his head a few inches, Vince saw a small white dog on the bulkhead looking in his direction.

Oh great.

He’d never been a fan of little dogs, and he sure as hell wasn’t becoming one now.

“Pinkie,” a woman shouted. “Get back in here.”

Surprise. The dog kept barking. Only it was more frenzied now. Great.

The woman yelled again and when the dog continued to ignore her, she marched out in her robe and slippers and scooped him up. But instead of turning around and heading back to her trailer, she paused at the bulkhead. “What do you see?”

Vince’s stomach clenched. If only he had Zara’s cloaking talent and could make himself invisible, then the dog could bark his head off all he wanted.

The woman looked out over the canal. “Aw, heck. I can’t see a thing without my glasses.” He let out a long, controlled breath, immensely grateful for old women and poor eyesight. “Did you see a rat?”

Vince’s eyes widened and his heart lodged in his throat. A rat? He scanned the bottom of the boat looking for movement of any kind. Skin-covered tails. Beady black eyes.

He didn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean they weren’t around somewhere. If he were to choose, he’d rather live with a dozen tiny dogs—no, a hundred—than one single caged rat. He’d seen plenty while living in that filthy prison and had never gotten used to them. A fellow inmate had even woken to find one gnawing on his ear.

Water lapped against the side of the boat in a slightly different rhythm than before. Untethered at one end, it was drifting straight toward a jet ski tied to the next dock.

He glanced back at the woman. She was slowly mounting the steps of her trailer, the little dog tucked under her arm.

Come on, come on.

He didn’t want to move until she was inside.

Five feet, four feet…

Damn. The jet ski was right there. Hitting it would make noise.

Screw it. He reached for the rope to pull the boat back in just as the woman’s screen door banged shut.

After doing a quick rat check, he cut the second rope and quietly rowed downstream.

Ten minutes later, Vince was crouched in the dark behind a cluster of trees near the fourteenth hole, peering at Dr. Dobrynin’s home through a pair of binoculars.

He smiled to himself. The backside was all windows to take advantage of the golf course view. And at night, it was the perfect fishbowl.

The expansive house was three stories tall with a daylight basement. A huge deck extended from the main floor and ran the length of the house. On the top floor, there was a small deck that he thought was called a widow’s peak off one of the upstairs rooms. If he were to guess, he’d say that was the master bedroom.

It didn’t take long for the doctor to come into view. Except for the day when Vince had been taken from his family and locked up in that godforsaken hellhole, this was the first time he’d seen the man outside the prison environment. He wore a dark blazer, an open-collared shirt, and a red ascot. If you glanced at it quickly, the splash of color at his neck looked like it could be blood.

Soon, it would be, Vince thought, fingering the eight-inch hunting knife at his waist. Rand had scores of firearms that Vince probably could’ve used, but he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone his plans for fear that they’d try to talk him out of it.

Besides, he wanted to kill the bastard up close and see the light drain from his eyes.

As Vince watched, the doctor strode into what looked to be a formal dining room and sat at the head of the table. Several other people were seated around him. He cursed under his breath that the man wasn’t alone, but no matter. He had all the time in the world and would lay in wait here until everyone left.

Vince hadn’t known much about the doctor’s personal life before, but since he was out of prison, he’d found a plethora of information online. Turned out, the man had lots of enemies and those enemies liked to talk. The tabloids were filled with the stuff. The government had tried to get some of the stuff erased, but they couldn’t get to it all.

Married three times but currently single, the seventy-nine-year-old man had two grown children from whom he was estranged. Rumor had it that his first wife, the mother of his children, had left him because he had a fondness for young boys. His second wife, a former beauty queen, had died under mysterious circumstances, and his third wife divorced him after only one month.

Not exactly saint material. But then, Vince already knew that.

When the doctor lifted a champagne flute and smiled broadly at his guests, a white-hot heat surged through Vince, making it hard to see clearly. Ten years ago, from the back of a limousine where the man had sat with Vince, he’d ordered the execution of Vince’s father. Vince had begged for his father’s life, and when it became apparent that wasn’t working, he’d lunged at the man only to be restrained by one of his bodyguards. Then, as a soldier took aim at his father and Vince screamed, the doctor had poured himself a glass of champagne and smiled.

Vince sat in the shadows near the mansion for several hours. By the time the last guest left, his arms and legs were stiff from sitting still so long. He stood and stretched, causing several vertebrae in his back to pop. He had to assume the doctor had a security system, so he needed to act fast before it was activated.

Palming a large knife, he sprinted across the manicured lawn, staying as low to the ground as possible. Thank God for the golf course and no fences, he thought as he flattened himself under the deck. The stairs were on the other side near the hot tub. He started to make his way over there when the French doors above him opened. He stopped abruptly.

Footsteps creaked overhead as one, maybe two people walked out onto the deck.

“Grandpa, have you ever made a hole in one?”

Vince froze. A child’s voice. A boy. Possibly the same age as Darius.

“Yes, once, when I wasn’t much older than you are now,” Dr. Dobrynin replied.

Vince didn’t understand it. He thought everyone had left. He hadn’t seen any children at the party. Where had this boy come from?

“Mom said we’re golfing in the morning. Is that true?”

“Yes, indeed,” the doctor replied.

Vince’s jaw clenched. The grandson wasn’t leaving tonight.

The thought briefly crossed his mind that he could still carry out his plan. He could let himself into Dobrynin’s bedroom and kill him while he slept.

But then there was the matter of the security system. And if he managed to get past that, what if the boy was the one who found him the next morning?

His thoughts flashed back to the day his father was killed. He’d never forgotten just how red the blood had looked as it dripped down the slight incline of their driveway. Seeing that had changed him forever and would haunt him ‘til the day he died.

He didn’t hear what the boy said next. All he knew was that he couldn’t carry out his plan now.