Why did men always think they were right and she was wrong?
“Pack some clothes, Marey,” Sax said easily, though she read the tense readiness in his body. “I’ll take you to Terrie or Ella’s, but you are getting out of here. If I have to carry you out.”
His dark face was set in lines of determination and resolve. Marey glanced away, knowing that if she left with him, he wouldn’t leave her anywhere else. She would be going to his house. His bed.
She glanced back at him knowing she was losing a battle she didn’t really want to fight any longer. She had set this in motion when she made that trip to the motel, when she had let her desires and her needs overcome her common sense. She had no one else to blame but herself.
“Go on, Marey,” the sheriff urged her. “We have an APB out on Vince, we’ll have him in custody soon. Until then, protect yourself. Get the hell away from the house.”
Like she had a choice at this point? She was well aware of the fact that she couldn’t stay at the house, and she wasn’t endangering her friends either.
Gritting her teeth in fury, she slanted Sax a fulminating look as she turned and stalked to the curved staircase.
“You’re taking me to a hotel,” she snapped, though she was careful to keep her back to him. “No questions, no alternatives. A hotel.”
“Whatever you want, Marey,” he called back, his voice carefully neutral.
Pausing, she turned back to look at him.
His expression was pure sin, sex in its most undiluted form. His dark eyes gleamed with it, his expression was filled with it. She was so f**ked. Unfortunately, she had a feeling she was going to enjoy it. Too much.
Chapter Five
She knew he wouldn’t do as she asked. How had she known? She was psychic, she sneered to herself. She had known because she knew Sax Brogan. Three years before, he had claimed her with no more than a kiss. A dark, sultry earth-shattering kiss that had filled her senses with visions of hot, carnal delights and her mind with her own screams of lusty need.
She had held him off with a simple request. A plea. And for years he had abided by it. Until the day he was arrested because she was attacked during a meeting that she thought would involve him. She had known when she stepped into that motel room that she had made a grave, tactical error. Not only was she losing the battle with Vince, but she had known, if she survived, she would lose another, much more personal battle, with Sax.
He didn’t say a word after loading her large suitcase into the back of his Lexus and helping her into the passenger side. He had loped around the car, got into the driver’s seat, put the car in gear and driven away from her home. Straight to his. A beautiful two-story contemporary home on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by trees on two sides and the haunting melody of the ocean on the other. It was as rugged and strong as he was.
And she had kept her mouth shut. She hadn’t demanded he drive to the hotel. She had sat in the car, silent, watching the night pass by as her pu**y grew wetter by the second.
“Nice place.” She finally found the courage to speak as he closed and locked the door behind them. The room they stepped into was huge. There was no entryway, just a large, open ceiling living room that was roomy and comfortable and at the same time as enduring as she had always thought Sax was.
“It’s home. The bedroom is up here.” He led her to the double doorway, stepping into a short hall with a tall, oak staircase that led to the upper landing.
Like the living room, the hallway had an open ceiling allowing her to glimpse the railed hall above. She followed him up the stairs silently, her heart thundering in her chest, knowing she wouldn’t, couldn’t fight him any longer.
The bedroom he led her into was obviously his. The stark masculine furniture, a huge king-sized bed, tall, wide dresser and a low, mirrored chest. One wall was open, with a sturdy railing and a view of the living room. Beside it was a computer desk, the computer sitting atop it was still running, the last instant message he had received still displayed.
From Wicked, Janey just called Tally. Vince hit the house. Get there now!
“Well, so much for confidentiality,” she remarked as she stared at the screen. “I thought dispatchers were sworn to secrecy or something?”
He moved to the computer and flipped off the screen with a snap before turning away from her and tossing her suitcase on the low chaise lounge that sat in front of the doors of the upper deck.
“You can put your stuff wherever you can find room,” he told her dispassionately. “We’ll go after the rest of your clothes tomorrow.”
“Will we?” she murmured. “You and whose army?”
She faced him fully then, aware of the tension whipping between them.
He shrugged out of his jacket as he turned to her, tossing it over her suitcase. He stared back at her, his gaze vividly hot as his fingers went to the buttons of his shirt.
“I don’t need an army, Marey.” His lips pulled back from his teeth in an elemental snarl. “Stop baiting me. You know you’re going to be here, at least for a while. Why not stop fighting it, and me, and we’ll see where the hell this thing is going.”
She drew in a short, quick breath.
“It shouldn’t go anywhere,” she snapped back. “Vince is insane, Sax. Do you enjoy placing yourself in danger?”