Dirty & Dangerous Page 9

  “You’re right there, baby,” Thorn growled as he swiped another thick finger right across the tip of her clit. “Fuck, yeah. When you come, it’s going to blow my mind.”

  “Fall,” Cam coached. “We’ll catch you.”

  Then, in a rush, all the blood in her body seemed to soar to her sex, heating, burning. The pressure built, the pleasure stacked up. God, it was huge, a tidal wave of ecstasy. She was going to implode from the force if it gave way.

  Thorn rubbed at her clit again, his drenched fingers sliding around the sensitive nub, then right over the top, just as Cam slid balls deep once more. The friction of his entrance, coupled with Thorn’s exit…

  Everything inside her went kaboom!

  Brenna shook, jolted, spasmed with the force of the monster climax. As pleasure tore through her body and her sex throbbed, she screamed and clutched at Cameron. The orgasm turned her inside out, reformed her opinion about her body and sex. Shocked her. And still, they kept on. Cam’s teeth in her shoulder, Thorn’s shout in her ear, and their frenetic thrusts inside her, as if they had to wring every ounce of sensation out of her body or die, told her they, too, felt the effects of arousal overload.

  Oh. My. God. This was what she’d been missing out on all her life? If she’d known, she would have sought these two out sooner. Because she knew that not just any two guys would do—they were special.

  But now what? They didn’t want a lifelong partnership or anything. Not that she did. They wanted information about Curtis, first and foremost.

  Would they believe her, hate her—or both—once they knew the truth?

  A few snatched hours of sleep and a shower later, Thorn sat at the kitchen table, watching the sun rise over the mountains and Brenna fry bacon wearing only a pair of lacy panties and an apron. She hummed absently.

  After her orgasm, which seemed to double as an earthquake, she’d conked out and left him with two mutually exclusive desires—to pry information about Curtis out of her and fuck her again.

  Her deep, even breathing told him neither was happening.

  Instead, he’d taken in the sight of her curled up against him, then looked over her, to Cameron. So now they’d shared a woman. And the way Cameron was caressing her shoulder and looking mighty comfortable, the good detective clearly wasn’t going to relinquish her. Well, tough shit. Neither was he, not after the way she’d rocked his world. Not after the way they’d rocked hers. Knowing they’d been the first to give her real pleasure had been an aphrodisiac all its own. Usually, the women he took to bed were going to get off—it was a given.

  Brenna was…different—in a million ways. And he wasn’t budging from her side until he figured out exactly why that mattered to him.

  Finally, Cameron had opted for the shower first, giving him a few precious moments alone with Brenna. He hadn’t spoken, hadn’t touched her. Just basked in the weird gut instinct that told him he belonged next to her at that moment.

  Which made no fucking sense.

  Now, with the desert sun inching over the mountains to beam in the wide kitchen window, Brenna seemed to glow, especially when she glanced at him with a smile.

  The domesticity of the scene went straight to his dick. Then again, so did everything else she did.

  “You’re frowning,” she observed.

  Normally, he didn’t give a shit what his lay the night before thought the morning after. Hell, he was never there to care. They were good for a fuck. If he saw them the next day, it usually wasn’t his choice. And if they’d made such a statement, he would have found the most expedient way to tell them to get lost.

  Again, Brenna was unique.

  “Thinking,” he offered, his voice rusty. “Got anything to drink?”

  “Coffee, orange juice…” She opened the refrigerator. “Iced tea, a little bit of milk…”

  He’d actually been fishing for vodka. If he was going to face actually giving a shit about someone, he wasn’t sure he wanted to do it sober.

  Damn, that apron she’d put on over the scrap of black panties was giving him a hell of a hard-on. He’d never seen a woman wear an apron before. Or had one cook for him. When she set a steaming plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him, his first reaction had been to get her flat on the table and nail her. He gripped the arm of the chair to resist the urge, since he and Cam had already given her a workout.

  “Something wrong?”

  “No. I just…” He glanced between the plate and her expectant face framed by her haphazardly pinned up honey-brown hair. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She set another plate down beside him. “Tell Cam this is his when he gets off the phone.”

  Absently, he nodded and reached for a fork to dig in when he realized she was leaving the room. He grabbed her wrist instead. “Where are you going, baby?”

  “I don’t usually eat breakfast.” She wrinkled her lightly freckled nose. “I’m going to get the newspaper so I can read it while you eat.”

  Reluctantly, he dropped her hand. She disappeared around the corner, and he dug into the food. She emerged a few moments later with her hair hanging loose, wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt, no bra. With a smile, she walked past him, and Thorn heard the front door shut. He sighed. His appetite wasn’t really for breakfast, but there was no sense in letting good food go to waste.

  He bit into a slice of crispy bacon and just about fell in love. Done but not burned. The woman could cook—a valuable ability to a man who’d never known home cooking and couldn’t cook worth a damn for himself.

  Cameron strolled in from the backyard a moment later, tucking his phone onto his belt. “Nothing new. No one has seen Lawton. They’ve widened the APB. He’s been gone long enough to put some serious mileage between himself and Tucson by now.”

  “Agreed.” Thorn nodded to the plate. “I’m supposed to tell you that’s your breakfast.”

  “I know better than to think you cooked.”

  Thorn just snorted and rolled his eyes.

  “Brenna?”

  “Getting the paper.”

  “What did you think of last night?” Cam sat and shoveled a bite of egg in his mouth.

  Damn, just like it was casual conversation. How’s the weather? Good. How was the fuck?

  Sneaky bastard.

  “It was fine.”

  Cam raised a dark brow. “Just fine?”

  “Yep.”

  “What about it wasn’t better than fine?”

  Thorn dropped his fork to his plate with a clatter. “Look, Oprah, I’m not talking about my ‘feelings.’ We shared a woman. It was good. End of story.”

  In response, Cam just smiled. Before he even spoke, Thorn just knew that whatever came out of the detective’s mouth was going to piss him off.

  “I don’t think that’s the end of the story. I think you’re itching to do it again.”

  He was, and the fact Cameron was right… It just added to his increasingly weird mood. First, Brenna had to cook a perfect breakfast and remind him of all he’d never had. Then the good detective had to add to his shit by rubbing his nose in the fact Thorn had liked sharing a woman.

  But weird mood or not, the vision of Cameron’s dark hands gliding across Brenna’s fragile, pale skin while Thorn sank into the hot glove of her ass made him sweat. Remembering the feel of Cam on the other side of that thin membrane, deep in her pussy, rubbing his dick with every stroke just about killed him.

  Fuck. This wasn’t good.

  “I don’t do the same woman twice if it can be avoided.”

  Cam finished off his bacon then shrugged. “Okay. We still have to tail her until we get some information about Curtis. But if you’re not interested in dipping from the well twice…I have no such qualms. I guess you can watch.”

  Hell. “You’re a prick.”

  Wiping his mouth, Cam tried to hide his smile with his napkin. He did a lousy job. Laughter danced in his dark eyes.

  Thorn restrain
ed the urge to punch him—barely. “What the hell is the matter with you, man? Why are you pushing for more?”

  His smile dissolved. “Together, you and I gave Brenna something she’s never had and couldn’t even give herself. That was amazing for me. She gets to me, and I want to satisfy her even more.”

  “I thought for sure it would bug the shit out of you that you couldn’t make her come all by yourself.”

  “When we were both inside her, I felt as…close to her as I would if we were alone. Having you there didn’t detract from the experience. I felt a bond, and I want more of that.”

  Thorn swallowed. Yeah, he’d felt that same closeness and bond—and not just with Brenna. God, had he really just admitted that? This whole fantasy was turning nightmare, and it scared the shit out of him.

  The feelings reminded him of the time he’d wanted to keep a stray kitten he’d found just before his eleventh birthday. New, wonderful. The sense of caring and connection was something he’d never had. Unfortunately, it was short-lived, since his dad had drowned the kitten in the toilet. Thorn knew that if his father were here now, dear old Dad would find some equally loathsome way to squash these burgeoning feelings too. And probably with good reason. What the hell kind of pansy ass shared a woman with another guy and liked it? Much less admitted that sharing her made him feel closer, not just to her, but to the other guy?

  Thorn wasn’t gay, but being with Brenna had felt a bit like sharing sex with not just her, but Cam too. The shit part was, he’d really gotten into it.

  This whole scene was too damn unsettling. Hard dick or not, he was folding.

  “Knock yourself out,” Thorn said. “I’m done.”

  “So you’re just going to watch and pretend that she isn’t important to you?”

  “Pretty much.” And it was going to hurt like hell. Which bugged him even more.

  “Why? Why not follow your instincts, your feelings—”

  “Man, I’m not wired like you. I just don’t have feelings. I’m a heartless bastard with a drive-thru sex life, remember? You said it yourself. Back the fuck off.”

  Cam paused for the longest minute. Finally, he stood, grabbed his plate, and headed for the sink, something, no doubt, sage and clever perched on his tongue.

  The squealing of tires, followed by gunfire and Brenna’s scream, cut through everything. Thorn leapt up from his chair and set out at a flat run.

  Chapter Seven

  Thorn charged out the front door, .38 in hand, looking both poised and pissed as hell. Didn’t matter that he was without both shirt and shoes, his tangled hair hanging in pale strands to his shoulders. In leather pants and nothing else, he looked like a Viking warrior of old, big and bad and someone no one sane fucked with. That he was charging out half dressed… Didn’t that speak volumes about what he wasn’t willing to say out loud?

  Of course, Cam was right behind him, weapon drawn, heart beating in a vicious pound. What had spooked Brenna? Was someone shooting at her, at their woman?

  No time now to examine why he felt that way. Cam knew there’d be time later, after they put a stop to whatever threatened her, to think about the fact that, while this had been the first time he and Thorn had shared her, it wouldn’t be the last.

  Running, his feet pounded concrete until he cleared the front courtyard. Tall strands of yucca plants blocked the slice of street visible from this angle.

  Finally, he rounded the corner to the street, a half step behind Thorn.

  “Fuck!” the bounty hunter growled.

  Then he feinted left, planted, and aimed his gun.

  Cameron didn’t even wait to see the threat before he got in position. As he was steadying his weapon, he finally got a glimpse of the scene—and could barely contain his rage.

  A tricked-out sports car had been slung haphazardly in the cottage’s driveway. A thug in a white tank top that hung loosely from his doubtless drug-addicted frame chased Brenna in a circle around the vehicle. As she neared the driver’s side window, another asshole rolled down the window and pointed a gun right at her chest. The second she saw it, she gasped and slapped a trembling hand over her mouth.

  “Oh god. No! I’ll give you money…”

  “No more warnings. Shut up, bitch, and get in the car,” growled the voice from the auto’s interior.

  No one was taking Brenna anywhere.

  Usually one to keep the peace, Cam welcomed the sudden feeling of wanting to cram their balls down their throats as he read them their rights.

  The car door opened, and a figure emerged, his gun still trained on her. He was a short man, bald and unfamiliar. But with the look of leather and the 70s porn-star moustache, he had to be one of Julio Marco’s lackeys.

  Brenna backed away with her hands up, and the goon with the dirty wife-beater shirt grabbed her shoulders roughly. Beside Cam, Thorn tensed.

  “Don’t fire,” he hissed at the bounty hunter.

  “Bullshit! I won’t let them take—”

  “I’ll do it. Sneak around to the side yard and back me up.”

  After hesitating, Thorn took off to get in place. Within moments, the bounty hunter crouched behind a huge bird of paradise plant some ten yards away and nodded.

  Taking a deep breath, Cam focused on the criminals and did his best to block Brenna’s terrified cries of “no, please” out of his head as she dug in her heels while they dragged her closer to the open car door. If he squeezed this shot off right, he’d have time to comfort her later.

  Briefly, he thought of having Thorn call for backup. No time, first of all. Second, admitting that he’d spent the night with someone who was potentially aiding and abetting an alleged felon wasn’t exactly high on the ethical charts. Besides, they had surprise on their side.

  “Freeze. Police!” he shouted.

  As he hoped, the two criminals jolted, momentarily taking their eyes off Brenna as they scanned the area, searching for the source of the warning. Brenna took advantage of their distraction and jabbed her elbow into the concave abdomen of the meth head, who grunted and clutched his belly, and released her.

  She darted back toward the house.

  Not about to let her go, Baldy raised his gun and pointed it at her back.

  Cam fired off a warning shot, barely missing the guy with the gun—on purpose. The bullet pinged off his souped-up red pimpmobile. He would have simply shot the asshole, but he wasn’t worth the paperwork—at least so far. If he threatened Brenna again, Cam vowed he’d use the greasy bastard’s forehead for target practice.

  Out of nowhere, Thorn appeared and snagged Brenna around the waist, soothing her with a whisper as he dragged her safely into hiding.

  Breathing easier now, Cameron met the threat of the two thugs head on.

  “Backup is on the way. Stay where you are,” he reached for his cuffs and lied through his teeth, knowing there was no way in hell they’d comply.

  Julio Marco was aggressive and liked to win. But if getting caught was likely, that was to be avoided at all costs. And if his hired guns were taken into police custody, Marco would deny all knowledge of them. Their lives would be worth next to nothing after that.

  Judging by the way they hauled ass into the car, slammed doors, and squealed tires away from Curtis’s cottage, they knew it too.

  But he didn’t have time for sighs of relief.

  Jogging across the cactus and gravel yard, he pushed past the metal gate and found Thorn and Brenna safe and in one piece—almost literally.

  With his back to the concrete fence that separated the cottage’s pool area from scrub and desert, Thorn had wrapped muscled arms around Brenna’s huddled form. She burrowed into the safety of his bare chest. With one hand on his gun and the other in her hair, he whispered and soothed her, pressing hot, hard kisses to her lips.

  If the situation hadn’t been so damn dire, he would have smiled.

  As soon as Thorn saw Cam, he tensed. “They gone?”

  “Yes.”

  Thorn tucked h
is gun into the waistband at the small of his back then tightened his arms around Brenna, who was stiff and trembling against him. “It’s okay, baby. You’re safe.”

  “For how long?”

  Good question. The fact that Julio Marco’s goons were here and threatening Brenna with violence told him two things—one, Marco didn’t have the faintest clue where Curtis had slipped away to, and two, the human smuggler knew that Brenna was important enough to Curtis to want to abduct her and use her as leverage.

  The time for Mr. Nice Guy had come to an end.

  “Pack a bag,” Cameron barked. “Quick. We need to be out of here in five minutes.”

  “What… Why?”

  “They’ll be back with reinforcements and enough firepower to blow up the side of this mountain.”

  “Oh.” She bit her lip. “Can’t we call the police?”

  “Sure, but they’ll take you in to question you about Curtis’s disappearance. And you’re insane if you think Julio Marco can’t get to you there. We’d be barred from protecting you. I’m not comfortable with that.”

  “I like my odds better with you. Where are we going?”

  Cameron paused. “My place. You’re going to tell us about your relationship with Curtis and what you know of his whereabouts.”

  He turned and made his way to the back door, jimmying the lock with a credit card and a few seconds’ patience.

  “How did you do that?” Thorn demanded.

  “I wasn’t always a cop,” he said over his shoulder with a smile.

  In a handful of minutes, Brenna had dressed and tossed her belongings back into her suitcase. That wasn’t hard, considering the fact she’d barely unpacked when she arrived in Arizona. She heard clattering in the kitchen and assumed Cameron was doing his best to clean up after breakfast. Thorn was watching her with an unblinking stare, his laser gaze following her around the room as she grabbed the last of her belongings.