Blind Fury Page 10

  He cut her off with a shake of his head. “Don’t.” His head buzzed with anger and frustration that he didn’t know how to contain. He needed to leave before he did something monumentally stupid. Like scare her witless. Or spill his guts.

  Palms pressed to his temples, he closed his eyes. He could really go for a beer. Or twelve. He felt his car keys dig into his thigh from his front pants pocket, demanding his attention. He knew a long stretch of deserted road where he could rev up the Camaro’s engine. His nervous system practically sat up and begged him to do it.

  But he couldn’t really leave Jenna alone, because even what she didn’t know had the power to hurt her. They’d already seen that. There’d been no direct threat since the destruction of her house, but he knew she wasn’t safe. They were still being followed, and she was intent on continuing to dig. Sooner or later someone would find out.

  How the hell was he supposed to deal with this? He’d never expected to be in close quarters with her for this long. Under normal circumstances, he could have easily avoided her and her questions, but not when she was living in his home, sleeping in his bed.

  He opened his eyes and met her gaze. She took a tentative step toward him, and then another. His feet felt like they were mired in cement as she crossed the plush carpet in bare feet, bringing with her that sweet scent that turned him inside out.

  She stopped mere inches from him and put her hands on his biceps. Her fingers were cool as she stroked his arms down to his wrists before starting back at the top again. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t want to fight.”

  He shivered under her touch, both energized and soothed. The red haze of anger ebbed, but more dangerous feelings started to take over. In a perfect world, she would never stop touching him. In this world she had to—right goddamn now. As she reached up to start again, he grabbed her wrists, careful not to hurt her. She let out a surprised gasp that drew his attention to her pink lips, so moist and soft. “Hey,” he said, releasing his grip slowly. “I’m not made of stone.”

  Her eyes widened and she shifted away, hugging herself. “You just looked so… I don’t know, but I needed to do something to help you calm down.” Picking at a thread on her T-shirt, she said, “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

  For a long moment, he just looked her in the eyes. “Rob is dead,” he finally said. “He’s not coming back. Nothing can change that.”

  She cringed at his blunt words. “I can’t turn off my desire to learn the truth,” she said, with an edge of frustration to her voice. “But I’ll try to stop asking you about it.”

  That wasn’t quite the reassurance he was looking for, but it was something. “Thank you.” And then against his better judgment, he hugged her. “I don’t want to lose your friendship, Jay. You’re too important to me.” He skimmed a palm along her silky curls and kissed her forehead, wishing he had the right to do more.

  He released her before he could change his mind.

  Jenna was shaking when Mick let her go. He’d been so tender. I’m not made of stone. Maybe he wasn’t immune to her limited charms, after all. Maybe he really did think she was beautiful. Or maybe he was just a sex-starved man who’d take any woman he could get.

  Except that he’d pushed her away. So clearly she was easy enough to resist.

  Still, would he give in if she pushed a little harder?

  Tara was right: Jenna had nothing to lose. Mick had already stolen her foolish heart, and she probably only had another week or two with him. He’d have to find work eventually. He couldn’t play bodyguard forever. Once he left, her chances of finding out what happened to Rob would drop dramatically. With that in mind, she had a sudden idea of how to start. Only one type of clothing could give her the strength and confidence to pull off something like this.

  “Would a run help?” she asked. In workout clothes, she wasn’t just a woman, she was a kick-butt runner. For some reason, that changed everything. It made her feel powerful. Silly, maybe, but true.

  His brow furrowed. “Help what?”

  “You’re wound up tighter than a spring.” She glanced at the front of his jeans. Her face went hot, but she soldiered through. “You keep reaching for your keys, and I’m guessing you want to go do something stupid.”

  He whipped his hand from his front pocket, but didn’t deny it.

  “Running will dull the urge. You know it will. We can drive over to the trail across the freeway for a change of scenery. If you let me set the pace, you’ll be too exhausted to think of anything but sleeping in your bed by the time we get back.”

  “Honey, I can always think of something to do in a bed besides sleep.” He smiled and his shoulders relaxed a degree.

  “I’ll bet,” she said, surprised by how relieved she was to have the old playboy Mick back. He was so much less intense, so much easier to handle than warrior Mick.

  “You change first,” he said.

  Game on.

  The butterflies in her stomach took flight, but she would not back down now. There was too much at stake. She chose her outfit from one of the shopping bags she was using to hold her new clothes and closeted herself in Mick’s bathroom.

  Once dressed, she examined herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. Oh, no way. She couldn’t go through with it. The woman in the jog bra and spandex shorts wasn’t her. She was showing way too much skin.

  Except, that was kind of the point, right?

  Sure, Jenna would never dress like this. She was all about practicality and comfort and modesty. So she needed to think like someone else. She needed to think like Tara. What would Tara do? WWTD? Jenna giggled and then took a deep breath. Okay, she could be serious about this. She could become her sexy alter ego, Jay. A woman Mick couldn’t resist.

  At least not in close quarters after months without sex. No one said she had to play fair.

  She covered her indecency with sweats—no need to give away her plan too early—and with one last fortifying breath, she opened the door and stepped into the living room.

  “Mick’s on to us,” Beavis said as soon as Troy Griffin—a.k.a. Ghost—answered his phone. “I stayed out of sight, but he managed to lose me for a couple of hours. It was definitely on purpose. Riz called in when they got back to the condo.”

  Griffin stood next to the office window in his Georgetown condominium and idly watched a powerboat cruise down the Potomac. Late afternoon sunlight sparkled on the water, blinding in its intensity. “You’re going to install a tracker to prevent this from happening again, right?” He fought to keep the exasperation out of his voice.

  “Yes, sir. Working on it now.”

  The smuggling operations were lucrative, but he was already regretting his involvement. If the Feds got wind of what Claymore had been up to, it could lead right back to him. And all because the idiots working the operation had let Rob Ryan find out. It didn’t exactly help that they’d made such a mess of their efforts to clean up the loose ends after his death. A fucking explosion. Real subtle. If Griffin’s guys took out Mick and Jenna now, the police would look much more carefully at the cause of death. Jesus Christ, he should have just taken care of this himself from the beginning.

  He’d have to take an indirect approach to keeping tabs on Jenna and Mick and wait until an opportunity presented itself. There was too much at stake for Claymore to come under more scrutiny now, before the multi-billion dollar contracts with the Department of Defense were finalized. His influence within the government and law enforcement only extended so far.

  Besides, Mick had all kinds of reasons to keep his mouth shut, and so far he was behaving. According to Griffin’s sources, Jenna was asking questions about Rob’s death—even going so far as to contact a reporter. He balled his fists at the thought of the other thorn in his side. For some reason Longstreet had it in for Claymore.

  The fact that Jenna had gone to an outside source meant that Mick wasn’t talking, and maybe didn’t even know the truth about Rob. On the other hand, some
thing had made her suspicious. The attacks on her house would have done the trick, but his gut told him either she or Mick had received something from her brother, something that Beavis and Riz had missed when they combed through her house.

  The pictures, a letter…something. Or maybe he’d just told her of his suspicions. She couldn’t do anything without proof, but she was still a liability. She and Mick both were.

  “Sir?” Beavis asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

  Red-hot rage flowed through Griffin’s veins. Beavis and his team of dunces were risking everything he’d worked so hard for. And now, when he stood on the brink of securing the most lucrative contract of his life, this band of dumbasses could bring it all tumbling down around him.

  A plan sparked in his mind like flint against stone—a way to clean up this entire mess and deflect the suspicion away from him. He smiled. “Call me back when you have something to report.”

  Without waiting for the man’s response, he cradled the phone.

  If his new plan worked, all of his problems would disappear in just a few more days.

  Mick stood at the trailhead under a canopy of trees that were fuzzy green with new leaf buds, stretching lightly as he waited for Jenna to get out of her sweats. She began peeling off her pants, and his pulse picked up. He’d known her for more than a decade, and he still couldn’t control his response to her.

  Her long, toned legs emerged, and when she pulled off her sweatshirt, she stood in front of him wearing nothing but a black jog bra and matching shorts that hugged her hips and thighs. Creamy skin glistened everywhere he looked.

  Was that a tattoo peeking out from beneath her waistband?

  His mouth went dry and all the blood in his brain rushed south as he thought about uncovering the design. Not in a million lifetimes would he have expected her to have ink.

  “Okay,” she said with a smile. “You ready to run?”

  He nodded and blinked. God, what was she trying to do to him? Get a grip, Fury. This is Rob’s little sister. The thought should have doused his desire like an ice bath, but it wasn’t enough to counter the vision before him. She walked onto the trail and he followed, trying in vain to keep his eyes off her butt. Her shorts clung to every curve, and there was no panty line in sight. He stifled a groan. Running had been a bad idea. They should have gone for coffee. Or ice cream. Or, hell, anything.

  They ran in silence for the first mile, which was good because he could barely talk at her speed anyway. At least running beside her meant she wasn’t in his line of sight. The fine line of guilt was all that was keeping him in check. That and the promise he’d made.

  “You could have borrowed one of my running shirts,” he huffed out.

  She hesitated and he glanced at her. Something flickered across her face before she said, “No, thanks. I have another one, but I was too warm last time.” She bit her lip and looked away.

  He’d seen her do that before, when she was trying to pull something over on her brother. But why on earth would she lie about a shirt?

  Turning to face him, running backwards, she gave him a grin. “Want to race?”

  Hell no. He was having enough trouble keeping up with her as it was.

  She took off without waiting for his answer. He put on a quick burst of speed and caught her around the waist, tugging her onto the grass under the shade of a large oak. She squealed in protest and slapped his hand away. “Hey!” Her peaked nipples pressed against the thin fabric of her bra, and he closed his eyes to block the sight.

  “You’re too fast,” he rasped.

  “Yep, that’s us,” she said, already breathing easy. “The fast and the fury-ous.”

  He shook his head as he rested bent over to catch his breath, hands propped on his knees. “Very funny.”

  “You know me, a laugh a minute.” She put her arms over her head and stretched backward, revealing a bit more of her tattoo as she wiggled her hips.

  Was it a flower? His fingers itched to find out. “Aren’t you cold?”

  “Nope.” She straightened up and looked him in the eye. “Running always makes me hot.”

  Mick had never seen her like this before. Sure, he’d sensed that their attraction was mutual, but she’d never come on to him. In fact, he’d always counted on the fact that she never would. “What are you doing, Jay?” He stepped close and gazed down at her.

  For a split second her eyes widened, but then she schooled her features and licked her lips. She laughed nervously and looked at the ground. “Trying to get your attention.” The breeze tugged at her ponytail, and loose strands of blond hair stuck to her glistening face.

  “You’ve always had my attention.” Not that he’d ever wanted her to realize it.

  She glanced up at him and her look was a mixture of hope and confusion. It totally undid him. Giving in to years of suppressed longing, he cupped the nape of her neck and pressed his mouth to hers. Desire mixed with anger as he swept his tongue past her shocked lips and plundered her sweetness.

  Damn her for tempting him like this. Couldn’t she see that she was playing with fire? She might think she wanted him—or at least a walk on the wild side with a bad boy to make her forget her troubles—but he knew better. She wanted love and flowers and forever. She wanted someone who was nothing like him. And if he gave in to his lust now, he’d be shattered when she finally realized she could do better than a risk-junky like him.

  But before he could back away, her arms snaked around his waist and she pressed her palms to his back, bringing him closer as she responded to his kiss. He groaned and grabbed her butt, grinding his erection against her pelvis, kneading the soft flesh beneath his fingers.

  The world around him disappeared as he molded to her warm body, finally indulging in a craving that had haunted him for years. She was even sweeter than he’d imagined. Why had he waited so long to find out? He ran his fingers along the waistband at the back of her shorts, dipping beneath the stretchy fabric to touch the softness beneath.

  Heaven.

  Her body melted against his, sleek and smooth and willing… God, had he ever wanted a woman this much?

  Except—fuck—what was he doing?

  She moaned into his kiss and he pushed her away, instantly regretting the loss of her hot lips and warm skin. “Damn it.” He clasped his hands over his head so he wouldn’t reach for her again. “You weren’t supposed to like that.”

  “What?” She wiped her mouth with her fingertips and then dropped her arms to her sides. “You kissed me.”

  “That wasn’t a kiss, that was an assault. I expected you to run away screaming.”

  The hurt on her face twisted his gut, but he stood firm and unsmiling, ignoring the way the waning sunlight set her pale hair on fire and bathed her sweat-beaded skin in gold.

  “Why?” she asked softly.

  “Because you’re Rob’s sister,” he said, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. Didn’t she get it? Hell, he couldn’t handle this right now. It was enough of a struggle to curb his interest when she was ignoring him. If she took an active interest, he was toast.

  She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “So what? Rob loved both of us. I don’t think he’d object. Or is this part of that stupid promise you made to protect me?”

  “Your brother made it very clear that you were off limits to me,” he said, pissed at his friend for putting him in this position.

  “He had no right,” she said. “Stop treating me like a little girl, Mick. I’m a grown woman.”

  No shit. That was the problem. “You’re playing with fire here, honey. You know me. You know I never stick around for long. And then what? Friendships don’t survive that kind of thing, Jay.”

  She stared at the ground in front of him, lips pressed tight, arms folded across her chest. “Maybe I don’t want to be friends.”

  God help him. He needed to nip this in the bud. The girl was as stubborn as Rob when she got an idea in her head. He took a deep breath and steeled h
imself, angry that it had come to this. “If you’re that hot to get laid, I know a guy who’s a sucker for uptight blondes. I can give him your number.”

  Her head jerked as if he’d smacked her. He could have sworn her eyes filled with tears, but she took off running before he could tell for sure.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JENNA’S FEET FLEW OVER the asphalt under the broken shade of the oak and poplar trees lining the path. She pumped her arms and ran flat out. Mick had to be following her, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be able to catch her if she didn’t want him to.

  God, when she’d decided her only option was to seduce him, she’d almost jumped for joy. She finally had a reason to do what she’d been dreaming about for years. But this heavy feeling of rejection in her chest was why she rarely flirted, let alone expressed overt signs of interest.

  The worst part was that he’d been turned on—there was no mistaking that—and he’d still pushed her away. How would she even look him in the eye again?

  “Jerk.” Mick seemed to be a sucker for anyone with breasts. Except for her. She might not be the hottest thing on two legs, but she knew she wasn’t hideous. So why’d he single her out for exclusion from the Make-It-with-Mick club?

  She reached the end of the trail and sank to her knees on the grass in front of his car, fighting a wave of nausea.

  “Are you okay?” a deep voice asked.

  Jenna recoiled and looked up at a tall man in bicycle gear and a red helmet. Suddenly aware that there were other people in the small parking lot, she nodded and rose to her feet. “I’m fine. I just ran too hard. Thanks.” She tried for a reassuring smile as she brushed dirt and bits of grass off her knees.

  “Okay,” he said, looking her up and down before hopping on his bike.

  Moving behind a bench, she started to stretch before her muscles cooled down. It would help pass the time as she waited for Mick. He couldn’t be too far behind.

  “Jenna?”