Текст книги "Nauti Seductress"
Автор книги: Lora Leigh
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
NINE
She was restless.
By the next evening, Doogan still hadn’t returned to the apartment, and though Eli had been there the night before, he was gone early the next morning.
Dreams had haunted her sleep, and they haunted her after she woke. Like flashbacks, the colors icy blue and emerald green, something scarred and something gold.
Working out in the gym didn’t alleviate the restlessness this time, nor did it ease the constriction in her chest; the certainty that there was something she had to remember, something imperative eluding her, was driving her crazy.
Her fists slammed into the punching bag; she kicked at it, pummeled it with all the fury and certain knowledge that time was running out.
The nightmares were becoming worse, but they were changing. How they were changing she couldn’t remember.
“You killed me, Zoey . . .”
But he wasn’t dead. He was glaring at her, emerald-green eyes so like Natches, filled with anger and hatred.
She couldn’t fight him because she was restrained. Her wrists and ankles were tied to her bed, panic and horror raced through her.
Slamming her fist into the bag, Zoey collapsed against it, her ragged breaths half sobs as pain exploded through her head, nearly taking her to her knees with the force of the agonizing strike of sensation.
She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t talk about the nightmares; the pain became worse and sometimes just thinking about it was enough to fill her with agony. She just wanted it to stop. The nightmares, the fear, the certainty that there was far more involved than just her overactive imagination playing with her were growing by the day.
But there were no answers.
Even her sisters believed it was just a nightmare.
Even Sam . . .
“Come on, Zoey, let’s get you inside before someone sees you . . .” Sam picked her up, the warmth of her body a shock against Zoey’s icy flesh.
“I’m so sorry . . . Tell Momma I’m so sorry, Sam . . .”
The other woman laid her in a bed.
“Here, you’re so cold, Zoey. Let me turn the heat on, honey. Let’s get you warm . . .”
“I killed Harley, Sam. I killed him. I have to tell you. I killed Harley.” She gripped Sam’s arm, trying to hold on to her as the agony in her head refused to dim.
Then the warmth was surrounding her. It didn’t touch the iciness inside her, but it eased the painful cold on the outside.
So cold . . .
She was going to throw up.
The pain was too much; it was blinding now, like needles piercing and ripping through her brain, cracking it open.
“. . . pop your little head like a grape . . .”
She went to her knees, her hands gripping her head, fighting the pain and the roiling in her stomach as ice seemed to encase her entire body.
She’d never relived those images outside her nightmares. Why now?
A punch of pain erupted in her skull again. She was cold. So cold that shudders began jerking through her, uncontrollable, violent tremors she couldn’t still.
Pouring with sweat, her breath heaving from her lungs, Zoey fought to catch her breath, to stop the ragged, broken sobs and terrifying shudders. What had happened that night?
A jagged scar . . .
Intense, white hot, the pain drove her to the floor, her shoulders meeting the mat. Curled into a fetal position, gasping cries falling from her lips, she fought to live now. The agony was ripping her brain to shreds, destroying her . . .
“Zoey!”
No.
Oh God, not Doogan . . .
“Zoey, baby. Come here.”
–
Son of a bitch. Whoever had done this to her was going to die! By his hand, they would die.
“I’m here,” he whispered softly, so softly he knew she’d have to concentrate to hear him. “I’m with you, baby. Right here.”
The suggestions he’d made while she’d been under the influence of that powerful mind-control drug were subtle but all the stronger for it.
He was there. The pain would go away.
“I’m right here, Zoey. You’re warm. You’re safe.”
The shudders began easing, the iciness of her flesh warming as he wrapped himself around her, holding her firmly to his chest, his head against hers.
“I have you, baby.”
He wanted to snarl in rage. He wanted to kill the bastard who’d done this to her.
“I’m so scared.” Her whimper sent rage clawing at his senses as his chest tightened with the pain of what he knew she was feeling.
“No fear, baby.” He kept his voice low. So low she had no choice but to concentrate on it to make out what he said. “No more pain, Zoey. No pain while I’m here.”
Her arms tightened around his neck. She burrowed closer to him, her hands sliding into his hair, holding him to her.
“You danced with me,” she whispered. “You didn’t stay. You didn’t come back.”
Six years. It had been six years, six brutal, guilt-soaked years since he’d danced with her.
“I know.” Brushing his lips over her temple, Doogan stroked his hands down her back, regret flaying his heart.
“Why?” The pain was easing from her voice, hunger edging into it instead of pain and fear. “Why didn’t you kiss me? You wanted to.”
He’d wanted to.
He’d wanted to eat her kiss, stroke and taste her sweet body before devouring her pussy. The fantasies he’d been helpless against the moment his eyes locked on her that night had destroyed him.
“I wanted to kiss you,” he agreed. “I wanted to consume you. To fill my senses with you.”
Her breathing was still hard, fast, but not from pain.
“I waited for you.” Breathy, filling with such intense hunger that it constricted his breathing, her voice held him almost spellbound.
“What were you waiting for?” Lowering his lips to her shoulder, he let his tongue taste the sheen of perspiration on her skin and groaned at the salt and sweet taste of her.
“I’m a very bad girl in my fantasies,” she whispered, as though it were a secret. “But you’re very, very bad. Always so hungry for me and determined to teach me how to please you.”
She was becoming lost to his touch now. No nightmares existed for her at this second. Only his touch, his lips, the pleasure he was building slowly within her.
Doogan nipped at her shoulder, then eased the little flash of heat with his tongue.
“How are you a bad girl?” He let the seductive hint of Irish into his voice then and felt the little shiver of pleasure that rippled up her back. “Come, love, tell me how you get bad with me in your fantasies. Tell me what you want me to teach you.”
The thought of the acts he could teach her had his back teeth clenching to hold back a groan.
“Teach me to take your cock deeper in my mouth,” she whispered. “I’ve read about it.” She nipped at his neck, low, sharp little teeth sending fire lashing at his senses.
“Fuck. Baby.” Doogan cupped the back of her head, holding her in place. “Now ease the burn. Lick over your bite.”
She licked. Kittenish little flutters of her tongue stroked over the bite.
“Now tell me more,” he demanded, his fingers clenching in her hair and pulling her head back. “Tell me about all those hot little fantasies.” One hand went to the zipper securing her exercise bra. “And I’ll suck your hard little nipples until you cum for me.”
Pushing the bra over her shoulders, Doogan eased her back to the mat before coming over her. Inserting his knee between her thighs and pushing it firmly against her pussy, he watched that emerald ring darken around the paler green color of her eyes.
“Doogan.” Moaning his name, Zoey arched when he brushed his thumbs over her distended nipples.
“Tell me more, Zoey.” Crooning, teasing, he demanded to know what she wanted, what she dreamed of. “Do you touch yourself in these little fantasies?”
“Oh God, yes,” she groaned.
“Did you ever use any toys?”
He watched her face, watched the emerald color deepen.
“I wanted to be able to please you,” she moaned, crying out as he gripped her nipples lightly, tugged at them.
“What did you do, baby? You bought a toy?” he asked softly.
“Harder,” she panted, arching into the tug of her nipples. “Make them burn, Doogan. Grip them tighter.”
“Tell me.” He all but snarled with the need to know. “Tell me what you did with that toy you bought.”
Lowering his head, he took one swollen, sensitive nipple between his teeth and let his teeth tighten on it, tug at it.
“Oh God, yes,” she cried. “I read how to take you deep if I ever had the chance. I tried to learn. Taught myself how to a little bit . . . Doogan.” She tried to scream, nearly erupting in release when her words, the images they evoked, had him tightening his teeth on her nipple and raking it with his tongue.
As he released the tip, satisfaction surged through him at the ruby flush of the tight tip.
“You want my cock deeper in that tight little throat?” Moving his knee back, Doogan pushed one hand beneath the tiny shorts she wore to the saturated heat of her pussy.
“Deeper,” she panted, twisting beneath him when his fingers found the clenched, rippling entrance to her pussy.
Damn her. He was ready to blow any second. Never, not even once had another woman driven him so hard, so fast into a hunger he couldn’t control.
“I’ll cum in your throat again,” he groaned. “Is that what you want, baby?” He rimmed the entrance, feeling the silky slide of her juices against his fingertips.
“Yes. Oh, Doogan, I want that. I want to hear you cry out my name like you did the first time.”
His finger pushed inside the gripping heat of her inner body in one hard, bold thrust.
For a second, just a second, he was certain she would explode before he wanted her to.
“There, baby,” he whispered, licking her nipple as each breath she took ended in a lingering little whimper.
Retreating, dragging the slick dampness from inside her, he eased his finger lower, finding the tight puckered entrance he sought.
Hips lifting, she whimpered his name each time he dragged her body’s lubrication to the closed, extremely tight portal of her rear.
“I’ll buy you a toy, Zoey,” he promised, slickening her further, wishing he’d had the foresight to bring what he needed to teach her how to take the pleasure he could give her there.
“Then, while I’m fucking your tight little throat, I can fuck you right here as well.” He pushed his finger to the first knuckle inside the gripping entrance of her anus and nearly came in his jeans when she screamed his name and demanded more.
“Deeper,” she cried. “Oh God, Doogan . . .”
She writhed on the penetration, bearing down, taking him to the next knuckle.
Twisting his wrist Doogan sent a finger thrusting inside her pussy, his lips covering a nipple, consuming it, nipping and licking and growling with demented hunger.
He couldn’t take much more.
God, he had to get inside her.
Pulling back, he ignored her shattered cry, her demand to give her more. Loosening his jeans, he drew the engorged length of his shaft free before gripping her wrists and pulling her into a sitting position.
“On your knees,” he snarled.
He didn’t wait for her to move. Wrapping one arm around her hips, he lifted her, turning her. When she caught her weight on her hands and knees, he jerked the brief little shorts over her shapely ass to her knees, gripped his cock, and, as he watched, pressed it against the glistening, swollen curves of her pussy.
“I’m going to come inside you again,” he breathed out in anticipation. “Like I did before. Damn, Zoey, it’s incredible how good it feels to pump my release in your snug little pussy. To feel you surrounding me . . .” He pressed forward. “Ah baby, so hot and wet. So tight and sweet.”
Her inner muscles bit down on him, tightening, rippling around the advancing intruder, milking him deeper, sucking at his flesh with such incredible pleasure that holding back was killing him.
Sweat trailed from his temple, beaded the rest of his face. Teeth clenched, a groan pulling from his chest, he pushed inside her further. His balls tightened, his cock throbbing. And the sweet heat enclosing him was like a silken vise tightening around his cock.
Still, he pushed in with slow, measured thrusts, watching her flesh stretch around him, seeing her juices clinging to his shaft as he pulled back. Then in again, groaning, his thighs bunching to hold back his release as her inner muscles sucked at the too-sensitive head of his cock.
She was killing him. She was ripping his soul open, tearing down the defenses he’d spent years building, and reminded him, with each look, each second he spent with her, why he’d nearly broken a sacred vow one hot summer night, just to have her.
“Ah Zoey, I love how you take me,” Doogan groaned behind her. “So hot and tight, sucking my dick in . . .” His hips jerking, driving him deeper, harder.
A desperate cry spilled from her lips.
She needed harder, deeper. He was killing her with the exquisitely slow thrusts and retreats. Sensitizing her to the point that the pleasure was an ecstatic agony.
Excitement raged through her, making breathing harder, each breath becoming a moan as he stroked inside her. The callused fingers gripping her hips kneaded her flesh; she felt beads of his sweat drip to her back, felt his cock throbbing inside her, the heavy, ropy veins rasping against her inner flesh, the broad, mushroomed head driving her crazy with each thrust before the heavy shaft lodged inside her, pounding with each beat of his blood racing through the throbbing veins.
“You’re killing me,” she cried, her shoulders collapsing to the mat, her nails digging into the tough canvas. “Stop torturing me, Doogan . . . Oh God . . . Doogan, please . . .”
Slow, so slow she could feel every heated stretch of her inner muscles as the broad crest eased inside her. Flexing, rippling in need, her pussy clenched on the invader, milked it, fought to hold him inside her.
It wasn’t enough.
Each slow impalement only built the need higher, increased the storm beginning to rage through her senses. Lazy, steadily tightening spirals of sensations lashed through her while each slow thrust, each retreat, had her crying out the need for more, for harder, for relief from the steadily building intensity that was driving her crazy.
“Sweet Zoey,” he crooned behind her, that hint of the Irish accent so damned sexy it just made her wetter. “Ah babe, how I love the feel of you.”
“Doogan, I need you. Now,” she groaned, her fingers fisting, perspiration dampening her hair now. He was burning her alive, the flames searing her senses, racing through her body like wildfire. “Please let me cum. Please . . . Fuck me, Doogan.”
A sudden, slamming thrust nearly triggered the explosion she was begging for. As though his control merely slipped for an instant. He stilled as the hard, fast thrust buried him to the hilt, his hands clenching on her hips, a rough groan tearing from his chest.
“I love you fucking me,” she whispered brokenly as he eased back, retreating by slow degrees. “So thick and hard inside me, so hot . . .”
Hard, shocking, white-hot pleasure suddenly snapped through her as he thrust inside her hard and deep, not just one, twice, three times . . . Oh God, she was so close, and he stilled.
“Fuck me. You little witch. You’ll pay for that, love,” he groaned, his breathing harsh, heavy.
“Willingly.” Clenching on the flesh stretching her with such brutal pleasure, Zoey whimpered, stretched on a rack of such pleasure she didn’t know if she’d survive the release. “What pay . . . oh God, what payment?” She groaned as he moved against her, stroking her internally. “Fuck me, Doogan. Deep and hard and the next time you get your dick in my throat—” She screamed.
Or rather she tried to scream.
One hard hand buried itself in the hair at the back of her head, tugging, pulling at it as the other tightened at her hip and the control he’d just had a handle on slipped completely.
Coming over her, Doogan settled at her shoulder, his teeth clenching at her flesh like an animal and pushing her higher as he began thrusting inside her with such hard, deep lunges she felt the ecstasy gathering like supercharged particles. Increasing, moving faster inside her, hotter, tightening . . .
“Oh . . . Doogan . . .” She cried out for him when it overtook her.
Heady, white hot, blinding her with the intensity of the orgasm that detonated inside her with such force, such steadily increasing pleasure she swore for a second she might have died from it.
“Ah hell . . . Zoey . . . Damn you, Zoey . . .” Fiery, lashing, the jetting pulses of his release inside her only added to the ecstasy. Each pumping ejaculation increased the sultry splendor and the orgasm she could feel invading every part of her.
Her breath caught, held just before the racking, uncontrolled shudders of rapture began tearing through her again. And Zoey swore she felt a part of her very spirit open, felt the pleasure invade it, and felt Doogan mark her there even as he marked the flesh he held captive at her shoulder.
As the brutal shudders of ecstasy eased away, she collapsed beneath him, breathless, exhausted.
“Witch,” he groaned, pulling from her as their too-sensitive flesh reacted with a sensation far too close to renewed need. “You’ll kill me.”
She grinned. “Hmm, good way to go, huh?”
Lying beside her and pulling her into his arms, he gave her an odd, almost amused grin. “The best, sweetheart. The best way to go.”
So why, she wondered, did he sound so damned somber and filled with regret?
TEN
The next evening Zoey couldn’t stand the isolation of the apartment any longer. The mark on her neck hadn’t yet faded enough for her comfort, and the fact that she was confining herself to the apartment to ensure her family didn’t see it, was only pissing her off. She couldn’t have a life that entailed anything her brother disapproved of. She couldn’t have a motorcycle that he knew about because it was just too dangerous. And don’t even think about having a lover. Unless he chose that lover for her. She hated it. Hated having to hide so much of who she was and what she wanted. Working out again lasted no more than half an hour. She couldn’t concentrate on the painting she’d started weeks before. And she needed to escape. The restlessness was only growing and she didn’t know why. Why was it tormenting her now? Why did her apartment seem too closed in, her mind her enemy and her life racing out of control?
And why the hell was she hiding, too damned scared to leave because someone might tell her brother she had a hickey? It was making her crazy.
Dressed in jeans, tank, and sneakers an hour later, she escaped and headed out of town in the little roadster she’d managed to buy off Billy Ray the year before. The restlessness she couldn’t seem to do anything with was like an itch she couldn’t scratch, simply because she couldn’t find it. Irritating as hell, impossible to ignore. That feeling that she was forgetting something important from those dreams was like that itch. She knew it was there, it was making her crazy, but she just couldn’t locate the right spot to scratch.
Eli wasn’t even around to distract her.
He hadn’t returned yet, and he’d been acting damned strange since Doogan had begun sleeping with her. She rarely saw him and she found she actually missed him a little. Especially now, when the need to burn away the restlessness required at least a good sparring match.
Driving to her sister Lyrica’s, Zoey grimaced at the sight of Natches’s car parked in the driveway as she neared the turnoff. Graham’s Viper was absent and she had no doubt he was meeting Doogan somewhere. It was nearing dark and she had no idea what Doogan thought of as late, so she had no idea when he’d be back to the apartment.
Being alone was preferable to having Natches interrogate her, though. He’d been doing that for a while now whenever he saw her. What had she been doing? Who were her friends, was she dating anyone yet? She felt like a damned teenager again.
Rather than pulling into the driveway and dealing with her cousin’s questions and general nosiness, Zoey continued along the back road as it wound along the edge of Graham’s property before circling along a tributary of the lake and heading back to town.
As she came to a stop sign before turning onto the main road nearly twenty minutes later, car lights suddenly flicked on, a motor racing, before a vehicle tore from a graveled side road and barreled toward her.
Instinct had Zoey hitting the gas, the car’s motor that her cousin Natches kept in peak condition responding immediately. The tires bit into blacktop and threw her forward, the back end fishtailing before she righted it and managed by inches to keep the truck from running over her. Cursing, she glanced at her rearview mirror, the lights of the other vehicle gaining on her fast once again.
“I don’t need this,” she snarled. “You’ve had it, Billy. I’ll kick your ass for this.” Right after she called his stepbrother, Clay.
Dawg would go apeshit if Billy actually managed to touch the bumper of her car.
Just as she neared the turnoff to Graham and Lyrica’s home, the truck’s horn sounded behind her, raucous and strident. Red and green trim lights flicked on along the grill of the truck, assuring her she hadn’t been wrong about the identity of the asshole behind her.
That boy had a few screws loose, and that was all there was to it. Slowing, she let the moron race around her only to groan at the sight of Natches standing on Graham’s front porch through the trees separating the house from the main road. There was no doubt he’d heard Billy Ray, and he’d have definitely recognized the sound of her car, motor revving and tires screaming as she tore out of the side road. If she didn’t stop, he’d be at her place within minutes of Graham’s arrival, which would probably coincide with Doogan’s arrival at her apartment.
Turning onto the narrow road again Zoey made the turn into the narrower lane leading to her sister and brother-in-law’s home.
Turning off the ignition, Zoey slid from the car and headed up the walk.
“Okay, sis?” Concern filled Natches’s emerald-green eyes when Zoey stepped to the porch.
He was her cousin, but Dawg, Natches, and Rowdy were often mistaken for brothers by those unaware of the Mackay family history. And she loved them like brothers. Overprotective, affectionate, always loving, brothers.
“The little moron.” She rolled her eyes at Billy Ray’s antics as his hand settled at her back, leading her into the house.
“Where’s Lyrica?” she asked.
“Her room, with the babies,” he answered, his voice relaxed enough, but there was an edge of tension in his expression that warned her that Billy Ray’s future could be in question. “That was Billy Ray tearing around you, wasn’t it?”
She heard that carefully bland tone and knew it for what it was. It wouldn’t be much longer before Billy was sporting Mackay bruises.
“Dammit, Natches, they’re friends. Let it go,” she demanded, turning to face him as she entered the hall, knowing if she didn’t confront it now then she’d only have to deal with it later.
“I heard you tearing onto the road a mile away, Zoey,” he refuted, concern flickering in his gaze. Concern and no small amount of anger. “The way the motor was screaming, you were scared. Don’t deny it.”
She didn’t hesitate. One never hesitated when it came to Natches. Going to her tip toes, she shoved her finger in his face, anger tightening her expression.
“If you, Rowdy, or Dawg or any of your cohorts lay one hand on my friends, Natches, I swear I’ll head straight to California. Seth and Saul have promised I could stay with them any time I want. Keep pushing me, Natches, and my ‘want to’ just may get real deep and intense. Know what I’m saying?”
The Navy SEAL August twins had made the offer more than once after hearing about her brother’s and cousins’ attempts to protect the sisters.
It distracted him, though. His gaze had strayed to her neck, where she’d pulled her hair over her shoulder to hide Doogan’s mark. At least, she hoped it was still hidden.
“That worries me?” he snorted. “Hell, Zoey, those boys of Cade’s and Marley’s are a hell of a lot more protective than we are.”
Natches might have to redefine their ideas of protection.
“And I wouldn’t forget, cousin,” she reminded him with a fierce glare. “The Mackay sisters and the August brothers are just kissin’ cousins, and those are some fine-lookin’ Texas boys.”
Natches actually stepped back in shock before he blinked as though he couldn’t believe she’d said something so outrageous. “You wouldn’t . . .”
Well, no, not now she wouldn’t. But he didn’t have to know that, now did he?
“The Mackay cousins could when they were my age,” she reminded him. “Do you think I wouldn’t get happy-happy with two of those bad boys if you dared me, Natches? Push me and find out.”
Walker’s Run Bar
Doogan saw the confrontation, outrage and pure white-hot, livid lust surging through him at the threat she made to her cousin.
“Oh, fuck!” Eli snickered as he watched the live feed from Graham’s security camera on John Walker’s large-screen television. Lyrica had called her husband the second Zoey had stepped into the hall and laughingly told him to pull up the security feed.
“Damn, Zoey.” Natches rubbed at his chest, the camera catching his wince and that expression of disbelief on his face.
“Acid reflux,” Graham guessed, chuckling as he glanced at Doogan. “This is about to get good.”
“You’re making my acid reflux burn,” Natches grimaced.
“Test me, Natches.” She bared her teeth, heavy black lashes narrowing over her pale green eyes. “Not a single bruise.”
“You wouldn’t . . .”
“Winter gets real cold,” she reminded him softly, and the faintest hint of sensuality flickering over her expression had his teeth grinding. “A set of those twins would keep me just nice and warm, don’t you think? You know how much I hate the winter. You really want to test me on it?”
Oh, like hell.
Doogan could feel every bone and muscle in his body tightening in outrage as he watched. Natches blinked. If her cousin’s expression was anything to go by, he was just as outraged. And furious. Not to mention fucking speechless.
“Not even one bruise,” she snarled. “Not by you or any of your friends, or you just watch me.”
Elijah and Graham were choking on their laughter. Doogan was grinding his molars to nubs.
Graham stood, legs braced and arms crossed over his chest, head covered as his shoulders shook. Eli leaned against John Walker’s desk, moisture building in his eyes as he tried to contain his mirth.
“Is she serious?” John questioned, barely getting the words out as Natches seemed to pale on the large screen.
“Oh, she would do it or die if he pushed her,” Graham chuckled. “And Natches knows it. If any Mackay or his friend touches Billy Ray, she’ll head straight to Seth and Saul. And they’d go head to head with anyone dumb enough to stand between them and a woman they took as a lover. Even a Mackay.”
Doogan felt his lips tightening. Thankfully, he wasn’t a friend of Billy Ray’s or the Mackays’. He could beat the shit out of the little fucker.
“I’m going to assume we’re finished here?” He’d had enough of the show Lyrica had informed her husband was being played out in their home.
“Now, I’m going to go see Lyrica and the babies,” Zoey stated. Settling back and taking a deep breath, she pushed the hair back from her face before giving her cousin a sweet smile, even as she flashed the dark mark he’d left on her lower neck, almost hidden by her curls until she flipped them back. “And I still love you, cuz,” she promised. “No matter what you push me into doing.”
Natches actually flinched, but not at her reminder. He’d seen that mark himself, and Doogan swore he paled further. There was no mistaking the fact that Natches’s gaze had lingered just that second too long on her neck or that he swallowed a little tightly, no doubt biting back his outrage.
“Well, Zoey, I love you too.” Natches cleared his throat. “But I really don’t want to kill one of those August brats.”
“Might be interesting to see the attempt.” She frowned, and Doogan wondered if she noticed Natches had a slow, deep burn rousing his notorious Mackay temper. “Navy SEALs. And they look pretty tough to me. You might have a fight on your hands there.”
Turning from him, Zoey moved quickly up the stairs while Natches blew out a hard breath and shook his head as though to clear it.
“Damn,” Elijah breathed out in amazement. “Fuck me. She won.”
“She usually does,” Graham assured him thoughtfully.
“Good night, gentlemen.” Doogan headed for the door. “Perhaps tomorrow the three of you can keep your minds on the meeting.”
He intended to be waiting when Zoey arrived home. He’d just have to see how firm her resolve was in having that pert little butt spanked and then penetrated. Those August boys never took a woman alone, and greatly enjoyed taking their women anally.
Hell, Doogan thought, she’d probably blow his mind there too.
Several things were for damned sure, though. If she even considered heading to Texas or California, then she’d deal with him. And he’d be having a talk with Billy Ray very soon.
Very damned soon.
Leaving Graham, Eli, and John to chortle over Natches mumbling now, Doogan headed back to Zoey’s. Before turning onto the street that passed the converted warehouse, he parked beneath a heavily leaved oak tree on the street bordering the apartment. Shutting the motor off, he reached behind the passenger seat, removed a set of night-vision goggles hanging from it, and pulled them on over his head.
As thorough as he was, still, he nearly missed the single presence positioned just across from the front entrance of Zoey’s apartment. The heat signature he caught sight of was watching the front lane leading into the building, his profile to the back entrance of Zoey’s home, though any lights would draw his attention.
Positioned on the roof of the discount store, cleverly tucked between two vents, Doogan would have missed him if the watcher had settled into position just a few inches deeper into the small area.
Well now, who was so very interested in Zoey tonight that hadn’t been interested in her before?
Fortunately, there was something very familiar about the height and demeanor of the watcher. Doogan knew the men he worked with, especially those he’d sent out for shadow ops training as he had that one.
