She rolled him over and he sat up, lifting her body onto his thighs and raising her higher, both of them still intimately connected. His arm wrapped around her lower back, holding her onto him, and her breast bounced against his chin. He bent his head to catch it, latching on to her nipple and taking her deep as she did the same to his cock.
Her noises intensified, her hips thrusting faster. He needed to push her over the edge, to be the reason she came alive, and he again rolled her onto her back, driving into her center, the friction building to a fevered pitch.
He opened his eyes to see her flushed cheeks, her lashes resting against her skin, and her lips parted as she moaned. He took her mouth in a searing kiss, connecting their experience. Her muscles gripped him rhythmically, tormenting him. They milked his shaft and he was lost, his orgasm rising up like a tsunami from the calm of the sea. She cried out as his body exploded into hers, his climax ripping through him with intense pulsing waves of sensation.
He collapsed on top of her, unable to move as aftershocks ripped through his entire body, and her nails dug into his ass. The haze was slow to clear, their grip on each other lingering for long minutes as she held him inside her.
He’d never have this again.
The unfairness was an emotional blow, draining him just as her body was draining his. He rolled onto his side, taking her with him, the sound of their breath mingling on the clammy air surrounding their bodies.
He promised himself he would never forget a single detail of this night. Not her body, not her touch, not the way she made him feel, no matter who she was married to or what the future held.
28
Mac O’Brady stood in Sloan Dvorak’s kitchen and helped himself to coffee, the light of a cloudy winter’s day coming through the window. Sloan sat at the big barn-wood table with David Regan, Joanne, and Razorback. Mac had arrived at the house nearly an hour before and had yet to get a good read on the situation.
Not the passport shit with McKenzie. That was simple enough. But there was some relationship crap going down at that table, and he couldn’t make hide nor hair of it. Near as he could figure, somebody was fucking somebody else, but something was seriously fucked up.
“I suggest we set a trap,” he said. “If she wants the passport badly enough, she’ll take the bait. We can grab her and put an end to this game of cat and mouse.”
Regan straightened in his seat. “I’ll do it. Confront her, tell her I’m alive, but I just want her gone. I can offer to bring the passport to her.”
Sloan shook his head. “She tried to have you killed. She’s going to smell a rat a mile away. You could just as easily turn her in to the police, and she’s going to suspect it.”
“Then what do you suggest?” David asked. His voice held a petulant tone Mac didn’t like, and he hoped Sloan would beat out that dickhead to get himself the girl.
Dvorak deserved something good in his life. A woman to share it with was the best you could hope for.
He thought of his own missing wife and the DNA results he’d received the other day. He’d become convinced a serial killer at Riker’s Island might have murdered his Ellie, because she’d last been heard from when she was living in the same area at the same time as the killings, and she fit the killer’s type.
He had gone to great personal and emotional expense to find the location of the graves, but while his wife wasn’t among the victims, her first cousin was.
He didn’t have a name, but DNA didn’t lie.
Ellie had lost someone close to her at the hand of that man, and he needed to head back down south to find more information, just as soon as he helped Dvorak take care of this mess.
He gestured to Joanne with his chin. “She should do it.”
“Absolutely not.” Sloan stood up and headed for Mac, walking behind him for coffee. “It’s dangerous. We have no idea what this woman is capable of or who she’ll have gunning for her side. Her husband was connected to the Mafia, for God’s sake.”
Mac blew on the hot coffee. “Ain’t nobody else here can do it.”
“I’ll do it,” said Sloan.
“You just gonna drive up to that warehouse in that Porsche and yell, ‘Passports! Passports for sale! Fifty cents a pass!” He chuckled at his own joke, a line from a children’s book his girls used to like.
Sloan put a hand on his hip and gave Mac the stink eye. “She’s desperate. She needs that passport to get the money. Without it, she’s sunk. The grim reaper could dangle it off the end of a stick like a carrot, and she’d still try to reach it.”
“Then I can do it,” David said again.
“No,” Sloan barked.
Mac shook his head. “Why not? The man has a connection to McKenzie. Whether she suspects something or not, you just said yourself she’d square dance with the devil if it meant getting that passport.”
Sloan held up a hand. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Then you send in Joanne.” Mac shrugged.
