Dared by a Dangerous Man Page 4

  I noted the phone number and address of the grooming service, then closed the browser.

  As I was reaching for the towering stack of folders, Erin opened the door and poked her head through. I knew what she was going to say; she was always eating salads for lunch and then candy all afternoon.

  “I’m dying for a chocolate bar,” she said. “The heat makes me crave it. Need anything?”

  “Nope. And take your time.” Because I’d long ago figured out that getting candy was her excuse for leaving the office.

  Sixty seconds after she left, I got up. The office was deserted, chairs pulled out, half-empty cups of coffee on the desks, files stacked up here and there. The place being empty never happened these days, and it was a little weird to be alone.

  The white board gleamed on the wall, and I wanted to grab an eraser and wipe it clean. Couldn’t do that, though. Not unless I wanted a riot on my hands. But… no one around… No one would see if I uncapped the marker and fudged my score.

  But Martin would know. He’d ask, “Oh, who’d you bring in today, Audrey? Which case?”

  I could make something up, but it didn’t really matter. I would know I’d cheated.

  But if Martin had been given—or had been taking—especially easy cases, then I had every right to make some swaps of my own. I grabbed the most annoying case in my pile. Lenny Brown. He was homeless, liked to walk all over the state, and didn’t mind sleeping under bridges. He was fond of mugging tourists with a penknife. The fee for capturing him was ridiculously small: $400. But Stroop Finders never rejected work unless it was “extraordinarily dangerous.” We’d all voted for that after Dad made an impassioned plea, but I’d anticipated I’d regret it, and I did.

  I went to Martin’s desk and looked through his cases. Maybe I was biased, but they seemed easier than mine. I picked one at random. Suburban housewife with a serious shoplifting problem. She was supposed to be in rehab but had never showed up. The file had come to us three weeks ago, so she was surely sitting at home, confident she was too small potatoes for anyone to make much of an effort to collect her. And if she wasn’t there, her neighbors could probably tell me where to find her.

  I took it and shuffled Lenny Brown to the bottom of Martin’s pile. Really, it was a favor because I wasn’t going hunting under bridges in the heat. Martin, at least, would make an effort.

  It was the best thing for the company, and as an owner and manager, I had full authority to redistribute cases. But I still felt weird. No grizzled ex-cop, ex-military ex-macho-whatever wanted to take orders from a twenty-four-year-old woman. If they found out I’d taken a shortcut…

  Cursing my conscience, I started to swap the cases back, but before I could do it, Erin walked in, all smiles.

  It was fate. I left to find the sticky-fingered housewife.

  Her name was Rosemary. The photo in her file showed an attractive, delicate woman in her early thirties. If she was home, she’d likely come with me, no fuss.

  I rang the doorbell, and a man answered. He regarded me warily.

  “Is Rosemary here?” I asked.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “Audrey,” I said. “Is she in?”

  “Let me check.” He shut the door in my face, and I walked to the edge of the porch and looked back along the side of the house.

  Two cars sat in the driveway. This town was comfortable, bordering on affluent. The residents had plenty of garage space, and they wouldn’t leave cars out unless they were getting regular, daily use.

  Rosemary was most certainly home, and when her hubby asked if she knew anyone named Audrey, she’d say no, then he’d come back and smile and lie to me, and he wouldn’t feel bad about it because even though he knew his wife was sick, I was the enemy—

  A slender figure was sneaking out the back gate. I only caught a glimpse of chestnut hair.

  The man opened the door. “Sorry, she’s not—”

  “Shame on you,” I said to him as I hopped over the porch railing. I landed in a tangle of familiar pink and purple flowers, though I had no idea what they were called. The scent of crushed stems and fresh dirt floated up.

  “Hey!” the man called out.

  I sprinted along the back of the house.

  “Where are you going?” he yelled.

  The woman was gone, but she’d left a trail of lightly flattened grass behind her. If only her husband had done the mowing on time, she might have gotten away.

  I wanted to laugh. It was ridiculous, me chasing this woman. But I did, and I caught her hiding in the shed, and she came back to my car without any trouble once I told her that I’d cuff her if she tried to run away again.

  “Follow me, Steve,” she called out angrily as we passed the front door.

  Steve already had his car keys in hand, a resigned look on his face. Something told me he knew the fastest route to the station.

  I called the office after I delivered Rosemary. It was well after 6:00, and Erin was supposed to have gone home, so I was surprised when she answered. I could hear voices in the background, though that was hardly surprising. The bounty hunting business didn’t keep regular hours.

  “I’m done for the day,” I said. “Are there any messages?”

  “Nope.”

  “Update my score by one,” I said.

  “Oh… Hey, you’re tied with Martin again,” she said.

  “Of course I am,” I said, irritated. I’d cheated and had gotten nowhere.

  “We’ve got an office pool running. My money’s on you.”

  Just what I needed. Extra guilt.

  I figured it was as good a time as any to swing by Massimo’s workplace, but then Corbin called. Usually I called to tell him when to pick me up, but I’d been so busy…

  And so pissed.

  Instead of answering, I stared at the flashing photo on my screen. Corbin was shirtless, chopping wood outside the secret mountain cabin where he and I sometimes went for absolute quiet. I thought of everything we’d been through, but then I remembered how I’d felt when Jennifer had said she’d already talked to him.

  I hit the ignore button.

  Thanks to Jennifer, I was going to have to ask him the question I’d been dreading for months. And I had to do it today.

  Heading to your place, I texted. Because being cowardly was wearing me out.

  When I walked through the door, Corbin came around the corner, from the direction of his office.

  The sun was just starting to get low in the sky, and rays of light shot through the large windows, bathing Corbin in muted yellow. Throughout the condo floated a sound that I could only describe as synchronized frog croaking.

  “You’re playing the CD I gave you,” I said, smiling despite myself. I’d picked it up while following someone around a mall. The man had turned quickly, and I’d been in front of a world music kiosk. Twenty-two dollars later, I owned a recording of Tuvan throat singers. I’d given it to Corbin as a joke, but he actually liked it.

  “It makes me think of you,” he said, and I wanted to forgive him so badly it hurt.

  The “song” ended and then Shostakovich’s The Second Waltz began playing. We’d danced to this the weekend we’d met. I wondered if he remembered.

  His eyes pinned on mine, he sauntered right up to me, squeezed his fingers in my hair, tilted my head back and kissed me. A claiming kiss. A kiss like he hadn’t seen me in years.

  The sound of my pounding heart was louder than the music. When he moved his mouth toward my ear, I gasped, trying to catch my breath.

  “Care to dance with me?”

  If he’d expected me to answer, he should have given me even a fraction of a second to respond before pulling me into position and turning me. Then we were dancing. He took big steps, room-covering steps.

  I’d never thought men who danced were particularly sexy, but Corbin had changed all that. His natural power was obvious in everything he did, including this, but he was graceful, too.

  And feeling his h
ard, masculine body thrusting against mine, pushing forward, pulling away… It filled my head with all sorts of thoughts, and my body with wet expectations.

  The music felt dreamlike.

  I stared up at him, wondering how he was able to look at me without tripping over his own feet. I managed to do enough of that for us both, but he kept us going as if I’d never messed up.

  “We should take lessons together,” he said. “You never know when you’ll need to be able to dance.”

  Like a wedding? I thought.

  And the whole thing was so odd because I was supposed to be furious with him. As he waltzed me around and around the enormous room, I started to feel crazy about being upset in the first place. There wasn’t a rule that said Corbin needed to tell me when he talked to his former co-workers.

  It was like the physical spinning was muddling up my mind. I didn’t want to be muddled. I wanted the truth.

  “Jennifer talked to me today,” I said.

  Corbin’s mouth settled in a firm line, and the fire in his eyes turned focused, angry. “I know.”

  My feet stopped moving, but something as trivial as a motionless partner didn’t stop Corbin. He pulled me close, his hips and legs still moving. There was more, a hard length restrained in his jeans. My traitorous body rocked along with his, then he had me dancing again, spinning me out, then back as if by magic.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been talking to them?” I managed to pant.

  “This is waltz time,” he said, dipping me so low that I became convinced the floor was just inches from the back of my head. “In the civilized world, waltz time is sacred.”

  I’d danced with him enough to know when the dip was lasting too long, and this one was. He cradled me in his arms, and I was suspended there, secure in his grip.

  His gaze dropped to my lips.

  “The song can be played again later,” I said, desperately clinging to the small bit of rationality that hadn’t been swept away in the deluge of emotion and lust. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  His eyes returned to mine. “They’ve been coming after me nonstop since the beginning,” he said. “If I told you every time they called or sent an email…”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  He blinked. “I assumed you knew. I complained about it at the beginning.”

  “Well, I thought it had stopped.”

  “It didn’t. Every few weeks there was something else, something urgent.” He easily brought me upright again, but he’d stopped dancing even though the waltz was still playing. “For the most part, I ignored them, but when Jennifer personally called… Figured I owed her that after the favors she did for me.”

  He was referring to when he’d been so far undercover that he couldn’t get word to me. Jennifer had been my guardian angel. Corbin wasn’t the only one who owed her, and I felt ashamed of how I’d acted.

  “I’m sorry she ambushed you,” he said. He abruptly released me and shut off the music.

  I crossed my arms and let my gaze wander out the window behind him, to the pond. A family of swans lived there, and the two babies were getting large. I could see them now, floating on the water. They were far away, but Corbin and I sometimes sat out there to read or talk, so my memory could fill in what I couldn’t see.

  I turned to Corbin. From the beginning I’d wanted him at the most inappropriate times. Like right now, I knew the smart thing was to have the talk, the one I’d been putting off. The one where he would confess to feeling miserable ever since quitting. But I was worried about losing him, and that made me want to feel him inside me.

  It was his dominance I craved, when all his attention was focused on me. At those moments, I believed that nothing could tear us apart.

  My thoughts must have shown in my eyes because Corbin’s mouth was hot again on mine, forcing my lips open, his tongue thrusting into my mouth. He tasted like coffee, like Corbin.

  His hands locked around my waist, and he pumped me against him. He was still hard, but that wasn’t surprising.

  He bit my tongue gently, just a way of letting me know he was in a mood to inflict pain. That was fine by me because pain was what I needed. It would clear my head, maybe cleanse my soul.

  His hands slipped lower, cupped my buttocks and squeezed, and fiery heat pulsed between my legs. As he pulled me up, onto my toes, his kiss deepened.

  Easily, he picked me up, and I wrapped my legs around his hips. He didn’t look where he was going as he carried me into the bedroom. I was damned sure looking, but his homes were always tidy. One of the things I loved about his condo: no stairs for him to haul me up or down, scaring me witless.

  But he had plenty of other ways to make me uncomfortable. For example, when he lowered me onto the bed and asked, “Would you rather I punish you with my palm or the hairbrush?”

  “What’s the third option?”

  He slowly came down over me, the crushing weight of his body driving the breath from my lungs. This, too, was a reminder. Like I could ever forget how large and muscular his body was. Like I didn’t know about the power he possessed.

  Rationally knowing his strength and physically feeling it in the way his hips drove my thighs apart were two different things.

  I loved his strength and power.

  Chapter 6

  Corbin knelt over me as he skimmed off his shirt. The rippling of his torso had me biting my lip impatiently. No matter how many times I saw him naked, I never got tired of this moment.

  I loved how strong he was. I raised a hand and brushed my fingers over his sculpted abs, now tan from his shirtless runs along the trails behind the condo, but he caught both my wrists and forced them over my head.

  “Don’t move,” he growled, grabbing at my shirt.

  He pulled it up until it covered my face, and he left it like that. Because of the heat, I’d chosen a shirt of thin, light fabric, and I could still see Corbin’s outline through it, the bunching of his muscular chest and shoulders as he leaned over me.

  One hand lifted under my back, the heat of his palm searing into my flesh. His other hand deftly unhooked my bra.

  He shoved the cups up, just under my chin, the straps tugging uncomfortably. But I didn’t struggle. Sometimes I did, but I’d learned that when he wanted me to behave, I’d get off faster if I was a good girl.

  Sometimes I challenged him because I couldn’t help myself. But he hadn’t fucked me in two days, and I was horny.

  I wanted orgasms. Lots and lots of them, and I whimpered in anticipation, then wiggled my hips, wanting him to hurry.

  He caught my nipple in his fingers. “That’s not staying still,” he said, and he squeezed. “Do you remember your safe word?”

  “Sunburn.” We’d had to change it after I used it outside of the bedroom during an emergency, but then we’d kept changing it every month or so. I honestly didn’t think I needed one; Corbin knew my limits better than I did.

  “Will you use it if you need to?” he growled.

  Oh, he was in one of those moods. One where he expected me to follow every single command to the letter. It was the kind of mood that always resulted in brutal pounding.

  Slick warmth pooled between my legs, but I held still except for the smile twitching my lips. “Yes,” I said.

  He unzipped my jeans and yanked at them. They were tight, made even more so because I’d gotten a bit sweaty during the dancing. It was delicious torture, my sex exposed so slowly and roughly.

  I undulated a little, to help him out.

  That earned me another nipple tweak, which I’d expected, and then he moved away, which I hadn’t expected.

  The faint sound of his receding footsteps tormented me. I wanted to turn my head to track him, see where he was going and what he was doing, but I didn’t dare. He’d notice, and then he might use the cruelest, most awful, unforgivable punishment at his disposal: deny me sex.

  When he was in the mood to watch me suffer, I had to be on my best behavior. It was
n’t the right time to resist him or talk back.

  But the more I knew I wasn’t supposed to misbehave, the more I had to bite my tongue. With Corbin, I couldn’t resist playing with fire.

  First let him get you off, dummy. Then I could talk back, struggle, fight him…

  He’d been gone at least sixty seconds, and I was getting impatient. As subtly as I could, I shifted my head several degrees.

  I couldn’t see much through the shirt. He was too far away, or it was possible he’d gone out of the room. The floors in the condo never squeaked, never gave anything away.

  Then I heard him opening a drawer in another room. I turned my head more and lifted the shirt away from my left eye.

  Corbin walked through the doorway, a pair of handcuffs in one hand, a ring of keys in the other. He was looking down, trying different keys in the lock.

  If I moved at all, if I slowly began lowering the shirt back down, he might not know I’d disobeyed. Or the movement could catch his attention.

  Still, I had to try—

  “Don’t bother,” he said without looking up. “I saw you.” The key turned, and the cuffs unlocked.

  He tossed them onto the bed, and then he sat next to me. I stayed frozen in my foolish position, one hand over my head, the fingers of my other hand pinching the bottom of my shirt.

  Pleasure burned in his eyes. “What do I do with naughty girls?” he asked. The commanding tone of his deep voice was impossible to ignore.

  “Punish them,” I said.

  “Who?”

  “Punish me,” I whispered.

  He tugged the shirt back over my eyes, all the way down to my chin.

  “What? You don’t like the way I look?” I asked.

  “You scream louder when you can’t see my face,” he said, and I shuddered.

  He stretched my arms where he wanted them, then he fastened the handcuffs around my wrists. “Stay still,” he said before going back to work on my jeans.