Текст книги "Nauti Seductress"

Автор книги: Lora Leigh

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Everyone but the one man determined to see her destroyed.

SEVENTEEN

Witchy.

He’d called her his witch, but Doogan assured himself he hadn’t suspected who she was, and he knew that next night he’d been lying to himself.

He’d known the night he asked her to dance, and he’d known she belonged to him. He’d been in Somerset that summer to identify the woman known only as Witchy. He’d had no description, no way of knowing who she was, but when he met Zoey’s gaze across the room, he’d stopped looking for her. He hadn’t searched for her since. He’d sent messages to her, read hers in reply, but he hadn’t accepted what he knew inside.

He also pretty much figured out that Eli had known who she was all along as well. The younger man had kept her secrets, watched over her, worried and took the weight of those secrets with silent acceptance.

How in the hell she’d kept a secret like that, he wasn’t entirely certain. He was just amazed it had taken this long for someone to figure out a way to strike out at her. Whoever orchestrated it, he rather doubted it was Luther Jennings. The background he now had on Johnny Grace’s son showed a rather ineffectual little bastard with barely enough intelligence to stay out of Kentucky and out from beneath the Mackays’ circle of knowledge.

Jennings just wasn’t smart enough to put something like this together. That impression was confirmed after Doogan got off the phone with yet another contact he had reached out to for information. Luther Jennings dreamed of glory but had very little drive to attain it.

He was a coward, just as his father was, just as his grandfather was. And he was always blaming someone else for that cowardice.

“You have to do something about this,” Dawg hissed as he stepped into the garage where Doogan was working on the racing bike rather than dealing with her family, who refused to leave.

“And what do you suggest I do?” Looking up from the finishing touches he was making to the motor, he arched his brow curiously. “I’ve worked with Witchy for five years now, Dawg, albeit long distance. She’s damned good at what she does.”

“Damned good at what she does?” Dawg plowed both hands through his hair, stomped to the metal doors, then back again. “At dealing with cutthroats, drug runners, and murderers?”

If ever a man wanted to hit something out of pure rage, then it was Dawg.

“Dammit, even Rowdy kept this from me.” The note of anger in his voice had Doogan shaking his head.

He was damned if he wanted to play therapist to the Mackays. Where the hell was Timothy when he was needed?

“Rowdy’s a little smarter at some things than you and Natches are.” He shrugged. “You could learn from him.”

“Learn how to let our daughters jump from the frying pan into the fire?” The other man’s voice was strangled with outrage.

“This is about your daughters?” Doogan asked, rather surprised. “I thought it was about Zoey. But I guess the same advice could apply.” Bending to access a mounting bolt, he tightened it carefully. “They’re not children all their lives. Zoey grew up.”

“Has nothing to do with it,” Dawg countered furiously.

Straightening, Doogan stared at the other man thoughtfully as he cleaned the ratchet he’d gotten oil on and placed it carefully in its designated slot in the case.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dawg looked at the case, then to Doogan. “Are you fucking cleaning your tools?”

Surprised, Doogan looked at the case and back to Dawg. “You don’t clean the oil from yours?”

Dawg glared at him. “It’s oil. Keeps them from rusting.”

Doogan looked at the tools carefully. They were rather old, and he’d used them quite often actually. “Mine aren’t rusted.” He shrugged. “As to Zoey and your daughter, I suggest you take a few nerve pills a day and let them live their own lives. All of you will be happier for it.”

“What the fuck do you know about it? You don’t have kids,” Dawg snapped.

But he’d had a child. A perfect, beautiful little girl with dark eyes and an angel’s smile. So delicate he’d been terrified to hold her, certain if he breathed the wrong way she’d break.

“I guess I don’t,” Doogan had to admit bitterly, grief welling inside him. “What the bloody fuck do I know? And why the hell am I even trying to talk to you? Why don’t you just rant and rave and I’ll do as everyone else does, nod and agree with you and then do as I fucking please when your back’s turned?”

Snapping the lid of the tool case closed with a force that slammed it in place, Doogan clipped the locks, grabbed the handle, and all but threw it in the backseat as the image of his daughter taunted him, shadowed him.

“Why don’t you get the fuck upstairs, Mackay, and out of my damned face?” He slammed the truck door, anger surging inside him. “It’s more than apparent you already know everything you need to know, so I can’t tell you anything that would help you. Correct?”

Dawg tipped his head to the side for a minute, his gaze curiously haunted. “I’m sorry, Doogan,” he said simply, the words and the tone sincere.

“For what? Being a fuckin’ bastard where your sister’s concerned?” Yeah, he should apologize for that one. To Zoey.

“For your loss,” Dawg stated instead.

His loss. Doogan froze.

“And where do you get that?” Doogan knew he hadn’t said anything.

A shrug of heavy shoulders and Dawg swallowed tightly. “You have the same look on your face that I felt in my gut when I learned Christa lost our first child.”

“That is not a discussion we’re having,” Doogan warned him softly. “Not now, not ever. We clear?”

Laying his forearms across the top of the truck bed, he stared back at Dawg.

“We’re clear,” Dawg agreed. “But you ever need an understanding ear . . .”

“You can’t keep doing this to Zoey,” he stated reasonably, ignoring the offer. “She’ll be the one that hates you for it. Of all your sisters, she’ll not forgive what you take from her.”

Dawg looked away. “I can’t help it. If something happened, and I knew I could have stopped it somehow . . .”

“It will break off your soul, it will rip your guts to a thousand shreds,” Doogan finished when Dawg couldn’t. “But you’ll know you didn’t fail her, Dawg. You didn’t make her play with Barbies when she wanted to learn how to throw a ball when she was three. You’ll know that when she wanted to learn to ride a bike at four, you didn’t buy her a Big Wheel instead.” His throat felt tight, strangled. “You’ll know you let her be who she wanted to be, who she needed to be, even if it was Witchy, when she was killed because her mother promised her a bike if she would go to the park with her. Then the bitch let her run across a busy street when she became frightened of the man whose car her mother tried to force her into. Because if she had trusted me to let her ride that goddamned bike, maybe she wouldn’t have gone with her mother when she knew she wasn’t supposed to.” He all but yelled the words back at Dawg, his fingers curled into fists, rage eating at his soul. “Stop worrying about your own fucking comfort level all the time, Mackay. Let them ride their goddamned bikes.”

He was finished with the bastard.

Pushing from the truck, he was stomping around it when Dawg’s hand shot out and clasped his shoulder.

Not to restrain him. Not to argue or disagree, but in sympathy. Something no one had done; even after the death, during the funeral and burial, Doogan had stood alone.

“I’m sorry, man,” Dawg said again. “Clear to my fucking soul, I’m sorry.”

He forced himself to swallow, to breathe. “Yeah, so was I,” Doogan said then, breaking the contact and heading for the stairs. “So was I.”

–

Zoey covered her lips as she stood in the dark entrance from the storeroom beside the garage. The narrow, shadowed gap between a tall shelf and the wall was a perfect doorway to the rest of the garage, so she’d just left it.

When she’d heard Doogan and Dawg talking from where she’d sat amid the boxes and discarded furniture, she’d used it to hear what they were saying.

What she heard destroyed her. How had he borne it? And why did he take such blame for it on his shoulders?

“Eavesdropping, sis?” Of course, Dawg would know she was there.

Holding back her tears wasn’t easy. Moving into the garage, she stared up at her brother, her grief for Doogan’s loss tearing at her heart.

Dawg sighed heavily. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as she met his gaze. “I wanted you safe, Zoey. That’s all.”

Her lips trembled. “There’s no way to tell him.” Her voice shook. “It wouldn’t have mattered if he had taught her to ride the bike or not. Until she realized her mother was taking her away from her father, and that her father was her real security, she wouldn’t have fought. That was her mother.” Her breathing hitched. “I would have given Chandler a chance, even then, if he’d found a way to convince me he truly wanted one. A little girl always believes it’s her fault when a parent doesn’t love her, Dawg.” A single tear slipped free, because that had been her belief until she came to Kentucky, until she learned what a monster Chandler had actually been.

“Hell, Zoey.” His arms went around her and he pulled her to his chest just like he always hugged his daughter. Close to his heart. “I’d kill him all over again, myself if I could, sweetie.”

“I know.” She nodded, barely holding back the rest of her tears. “And if I could give Doogan back his daughter, I’d do it, Dawg, just because I love him that much.”

He stilled for a second, and then a heavy sigh passed his lips. “That wasn’t who I picked for you,” he groaned. “Damn, Zoey, Eli was the perfect match.”

“Don’t make me hurt you, Dawg,” she laughed, though she knew the weariness in the tone wasn’t very well hidden. “And for that one, you owe me.”

“You want us to leave, don’t you?” he asked. “You think because I actually like the bastard, I should let him live now?”

She listened to her brother’s heartbeat; it was strong, steady, just as he was. “Yeah, I do,” she agreed. “It’s time to let go, Dawg. It’s time to let me grow up.”

“Hell no,” he objected immediately. “Nine or ninety, it’s all the same in my eyes, little girl. It’s time to let you learn how to ride your bike, though. I can do that. And when you skin your knees, if that asshole doesn’t make it all better, then I get to kill him.”

She didn’t say anything; she couldn’t. The knowledge that Doogan had lost so much had changed something inside her as well.

“Do you know what Rowdy said when he found out what I was doing and agreed to help me?” she asked her brother then.

“What’s that, baby girl?” He petted her hair, stroking it gently, like he stroked his daughter’s. “He said he was only helping me because he didn’t want the adventure to hurt me. And that he knew, one day, I’d find the adventure I was really looking for.” She looked up at him, sniffing, realizing she’d actually lost the battle with her tears. “I found the adventure I was looking for, Dawg.”

“Yeah, I think I already knew that, sis,” he sighed. “Hell, I’m not stupid. But I still say Eli was better.”

“Because he’s your narc.” She gave him a watery laugh. “That’s why you like Eli so much. He’s scared of your ass.”

“’Course that’s why.” He grunted, giving her a look of mock surprise. “I’m no dummy, honey.”

He made her laugh. She couldn’t help it. No matter how mad he made her, no matter how many times she swore she was leaving Somerset because of his or the cousins’ antics. At the end of the day, she loved him.

Just as he loved Rowdy and Natches.

And she loved Doogan. Doogan was her adventure; she’d just had to be there to find him, or for him to find her.

“Well hell, let’s go upstairs then and tell the family we’re leaving,” he sighed. “But you have to stay safe, Zoey. Stay safe. You’re too damned important to lose.”

“We’ll lose you first,” she snorted. “You’ll worry yourself to death.”

He chuckled at that. “Gotta hang around a while longer, girl,” he promised her. “Who else is going to keep those little pricks you girls keep marrying in line? Now my sweet little Laken done promised her daddy he could pick out her husband all he wanted to.”

Satisfaction filled his voice, but Zoey stared at him in horror.

“She was five when she made that promise, Dawg,” she burst out, horrified. “Oh my God, you can’t hold her to that. Besides, you made her promise.”

He shot her a mild glare. “Promise is a promise,” he told her gruffly. “Laken knows that.”

“No, Dawg . . .” He moved quickly up the stairs at her protest. “No, listen to me. That doesn’t count . . .”

Poor Laken.

–

It was almost dark when everyone left.

Checking the clock on the wall, she frowned, realizing Doogan was still in the gym. He’d gone down just after she and Dawg had entered the living room, and he’d no doubt realized she must have been downstairs somewhere.

He hadn’t looked at her, hadn’t spoken to her, just disappeared down the front stairs, the most direct route to the gym. And he was still down there, no doubt furious with her for eavesdropping on him and Dawg.

But if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have known. She would have never known how he’d lost his daughter, or the wife she thought he loved had betrayed him. Of course, the fact that she hadn’t known was telling. If he’d intended to stay, if he meant for her to be a part of his future, he would have told her, wouldn’t he?

She’d known when she let him into her bed that he wouldn’t stay, that her time with him would be limited. She’d warned herself of it more than once. And it hadn’t helped. She hadn’t been able to keep him out of her heart, no matter how she tried. And she had tried. She had fought it, she had told herself it wouldn’t happen, refusing to admit it already had. It had happened six years ago, at a time when having him was impossible.

Stepping into the gym, she stood in the doorway watching him at the punching bag. The way his fists slammed into the heavy weight, the sound of power smacking into canvas. Sweat gleamed on his naked chest and shoulders, beaded on his face, and ran in rivulets down his powerful back to the band of his sweatpants. His expression appeared to be one filled with concentration until she glimpsed his eyes, glimpsed the pain and rage that filled them, darkened them.

Leaning against the door frame, she watched somberly. He knew she was there. Was he hoping she’d just leave? That she wouldn’t be here, hoping to make that bleak pain she’d heard in his voice go away?

Straightening, she kicked off her sandals. He saw the action, his gaze flicking to her shoes before he turned his back, his fists still striking the bag. Moving into his line of sight once again, she unbuttoned her jeans and shimmied out of them, before leaving them discarded at the edge of the mat.

He paused this time, his gaze going over the brief tank top and white panties she wore.

“Panties or shirt next?” she asked, the throaty tone of her voice filled with hunger.

“You don’t want this right now, Zoey.” Pure steel filled his voice, but pain raged in his eyes. Just as lust was beginning to rage through him. His erection was clearly visible behind the cotton material of his pants.

“You think?” She gripped the hem of the top and pulled it up her body, over her head.

Before it fell from her hands a sharp, pleasure-filled cry tore from her lips.

Heat, rasping, hungry damp heat surrounded her nipple; the force of the pleasure, the rough, desperate need in his sucking lips, the hard hands that lifted her to him, and the male groan that surrounded her instantly pushed her into blinding, chaotic wantonness.

Sexual heat rose like wildfire, overtaking her senses, surging through her bloodstream and filling her with a voracious need.

She needed him. She needed the fiery hedonism she’d only ever experienced at his touch. At the ravenous, ravishing hunger he touched her with.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” he groaned, his lips lifting from one nipple, moving to the next. “You should have left it alone.”

His lips surrounded it, sucking it into his mouth, exerting a firm, heated suction that sent electric pulses of frenzied abandon to sweep through her. Her womb clenched; heated moisture spilled from her vagina, coating the outer lips with a slick lubrication that only made her hotter, her clit more sensitive. And it made her wilder. The silky slide of it along sensitive tissue was like a teasing caress, a hint, a shadow of what she needed.

“I would have stayed away from you,” he breathed out, his voice so rough and filled with carnal intensity that it stole her breath.

“Why?” Her nails rasped down his side until they reached the elastic band of the pants circling his waist. “Take them off, Doogan. Pleasure me.”

So she could pleasure him. So she could steal the sorrow and the loneliness she’d glimpsed in him for just a few moments. For the space of time that he was a part of her, that he was as lost in the pleasure they created as she was.

“God, yes,” he muttered, his lips moving to her neck, his tongue licking, tasting her, his teeth rasping and nipping. “Let me pleasure you, Zoey. Let me give to you. Give to you . . .”

Her panties were ripped from her hips. A second later the band of his pants cleared the thick, throbbing head of his cock. Zoey gasped as he lifted her, pushed her against the wall, and slipped between her thighs.

“Put your legs around me.” The order was followed by a nip to her neck and the fingers of one hand lifting her thigh, guiding her legs into place around his hips.

She lifted her legs, curled them around him as the broad crest of his cock parted the folds of her pussy and began pressing inside.

Zoey ground her head into the wall behind her, lips parting as she fought for breath, her lashes nearly closing, so heavy as sensual weakness began flooding her. Pleasure and pain clashed and merged as the iron-hard width of his erection began pushing inside her, slowly. So slowly. Stealing her breath and her mind with the incredibly erotic sensations.

“Doogan.” She whimpered his name, her eyes locked with his as he took her, pushing inside her, stretching her, killing her with the need for more.

“You’re so sweet. So tight and wet.” Pulling back, pushing forward, taking more of her with each thrust, his expression tightening with each cry that spilled from her.

She was dying for more of him and he wanted to take his sweet time entering her?

“Look at your face,” he groaned, his voice growing guttural, his thrusts deeper. “So pretty. You’re so fucking pretty, Zoey.”

Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, her thighs clenching desperately at his hips. She lifted, settled against him, used the powerful muscles braced between her legs to anchor herself as she moved against him.

“That’s it, baby.” His fingers gripped her rear, moving her, lifting her until only the broad crest remained inside her, stretching her. “Now, take me, Zoey. Take all of me.”

“Doogan.” She cried his name, nails digging into his shoulders, her neck arching as the engorged width thrust partially inside her.

His expression twisted, a grimace pulling at his lips.

“You like that, don’t you, Zoey? All that pleasure and that bite of pain?” He pulled back, his hands tightening at her rear again, holding her still for just a second before pushing harder, deeper inside the clenched tissue.

A wail spilled from her lips, shudders tearing through her as rapture threatened to explode through her senses.

“You love giving it,” she panted, her pussy rippling around the intruder, milking the hard flesh throbbing inside her. “You love it, Doogan. Every second of it,” she sobbed.

“Love it.” Something flashed in his gaze. Something gentle, something filled with regret as he lifted one hand, cupping the side of her face and lowering his lips to brush against hers. “Hold on to me, Zoey. Let me give you more.”

His hips bunched, pulled back, and in the next breath his hips slammed forward, his cock burrowing hard and deep, filling her to the hilt and dragging a keening wail from her lips as she felt her orgasm explode with brutal strength through her pleasure-tortured senses.

“Doogan . . .” The shattered cry tore from her lips, the feel of hard, desperate thrusts extending the ecstasy, pushing it higher and forever binding her pleasure to his touch alone.

She felt it. Felt the invisible brand that went inside her, and accepted it.

“Fuck. Zoey. Baby. Ah hell . . .” His lips buried at her neck, his cock pulsing, spewing his seed inside her.

His hips jerked with each ejaculation, pushing his cock deeper inside her, the flex of the wide crest stroking her internally. Holding to him, Zoey buried her head at his shoulder to hide the tear that escaped, spilling it against his skin, knowing he’d never know, never realize how much of her he owned. That she’d given him all her heart, all her soul, and watching him walk away would tear both to shreds.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as she lay against him long moments later, fighting to catch her breath. “I’m so sorry, Zoey. I never wanted to hurt you.”

She lay still, silent, waiting, feeling it coming.

“You know I have to leave,” he finally whispered. “We agreed. Just for a while . . .”

“Just remember, you promised to come to me when it snows.” The sobs were held back; the hoarseness of her voice could be excused by the aftermath of pleasure. “Don’t forget me when it snows, Doogan. I get cold . . .”

Breathe. Just breathe. She was dying inside. Every dream she’d tried not to build around him was exploding inside her.

He released her slowly, letting her legs slide from his hips until she had her feet on the floor and he stepped back from her.

“Zoey? Please don’t cry,” he whispered, turning her face up to him, his gaze tortured.

Zoey shook her head, forcing a smile to her lips. “No tears, Doogan,” she promised, though they were tearing her apart inside. “No tears.”

Stepping away, she gathered her clothes and left the gym. She felt exhausted, drained. The tears she’d promised she wouldn’t shed were choking her, strangling her with every breath she took.

She forced herself upstairs and into the shower. Forced herself to step beneath the heated spray of the water before she let herself break the promise she’d made him. And there, in the corner, water raining down on her, Zoey slid to the floor, her forehead resting against her knees, silent sobs shaking her shoulders as she let herself accept the fact that it was almost over. He was almost gone, and when he walked away, it would kill her.