He cocked a brow, disconcerted by her interest.
Then she held something out, and her voice dropped to a shaky whisper. “Is this her, Zach?”
Paige’s picture.
His eyes flew to hers, his breath stopping halfway down his throat.
His stomach caved in on itself, his gut twisted, and he felt . . . violated. Revealed.
“Did I give this to you?” she asked softly.
Climbing gradually to his feet, neck and cheeks flaming hot, he grasped the picture and stared at a spot past her shoulder. “We were kids.” He said it with a tinge of self-mockery, a smile of contempt. “We were kids, we didn’t have a clue about anything.”
She craned her neck to fully face him, her smile fading. “But you’re a man now. And I found it under your pillow.”
He set his jaw, disgusted with himself. “Here.” He nudged her arm with the photo. “You want it back?”
She recoiled when he attempted to give it to her, folding her arms back. “No.”
“Take it,” he insisted.
“I don’t want it.”
“Take it.”
“I said I don’t want it!”
He could smell her, a scent unique to her, of soap and skin and flowers. Zach inhaled her like a caveman, an animal, desperate to cling to her aroma and even more desperate to find where it came from.
Swallowing with difficulty, he lowered the picture, and with a little sound of despair, Paige wrapped her arms around herself. “But maybe you don’t want it anymore,” she said in a tattered whisper.
Her chest labored. Her breasts rose and fell, rose and fell, stretching the white fabric of her blouse, begging Zach’s starving eyes and aching hands and every living, breathing part of him to notice those perfect, perky, thrusting globes.
Wrenching his eyes away, he set the picture aside and moved to the window. He didn’t answer her. Couldn’t talk. He wanted to kiss her for hours and hours and hours until they ended up naked. Until they ended up spent.
But no. It had taken weeks— no, months— of tenderly pillaging Paige’s sensual mouth to graduate to fondling her breasts. And he’d done that slowly, too. First just grazing the firm tips with his knuckles, smiling when she blushed, chuckling when she squeaked “we shouldn’t” while eagerly pushing those nipples out for him to do more.
“Did we have sex, Zach?”
Oh Christ. He was burning under his skin. He was dying here. And she mentioned—
“Were you my boyfriend?”
Had he been? What had he been? Zach gazed out the window, automatically absorbing the moonlit landscape as he wondered. What to tell her. How to define the way they’d wanted, needed, cared for each other, all the reckless things they did just to steal a few hours to be alone.
“But if you were my boyfriend,” she continued, “you would have looked for me. You would have . . . found me.”
He planted a hand on the wall next to the window, his face hardening at the painful reminder. “I did. Find you. Ask your mom, Paige.”
“My mother isn’t here anymore.”
The fragile note in her words made him curse himself in silence. He plunged a hand into his jeans and fisted it inside his pocket. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”
Silence fell. He could feel her frustration rising like a wind slapping around the room. “Please tell me something.”
Zach pinched the bridge of his nose, slowly emptying his lungs. What could he tell her? Why in Christ’s last day did you have to tell someone she’d loved you even though the world had warned her not to?
Paige felt robbed of her memories but he felt robbed of . . . damn it, of her.
He could tell her that he was tortured every day of his life, wondering if he should’ve fought harder for her. He could tell her the man whose blood ran in his veins was in prison for killing an entire family while driving intoxicated, and he could also tell her that the police force had rarely seen a man so driven to be a cop, so damned desperate to atone for what one of his had done. When he looked at Paige Avery again, he’d wanted nothing more than to have nailed her father’s killer to the ground so that he would never again be told— would never again believe— that a Rivers wasn’t fit for an Avery.
Then again. He could just tell her she’d been his girl. She’d think they’d gone for pizzas and held hands in the cafeteria and smooched at the movies.
None of which they’d done. Because he was Zach Fucking Rivers.
“Maybe I should go.” Within minutes, he heard, rather than saw, that she was wearing her shoes. Leadenly, almost grudgingly, she crossed the room. There was anger in her voice, even though it quavered. “I thought I could find some answers in Phoenix but I see I’m not getting any from you. And you’ve already gone above and beyond the call of duty.”
The front door clicked shut and Zach stiffened, ready to bolt after her, when through the farthest corner of his eye, he caught sight of the car outside. The headlights flared on, illuminating the vacant street. He saw red.
“Ahh, fuck.” He charged for his shirt, his guns, and stormed after her. “Paige!”
CHAPTER 3
SHE IGNORED HIS voice the first two times he called, striding down the warm moonlit sidewalk, feeling brittle inside.
“PAIGE!”
The third time her name tore through the darkness, she actually felt fear. The blatant alarm in that familiar voice sent a surge of adrenaline through her, spiking up her awareness. Awareness of tires over gravel, of headlights blistering her back, a car speeding . . . and Paige began to run.
Tires screeched behind her.
Suddenly all she could hear was that motor roaring in closer. Zach calling out behind her. What was he saying? What was he— oh!
The rocks! The rocks!
Her heart jumped to her throat and she let out a silent, wrenching scream as she twisted her head just a fraction and saw the car, speeding closer still. Finally registering the piles of landscape rocks scattered to her right, she flung herself over one, arms stretched out. A gunshot exploded. Tires squealed, and one popped loudly like a balloon. Poof. She landed on her side, hitting the rich, moist soil with a yelp.
“PAIGE!”
Going flaccid, she rolled to her stomach, digging the heels of her palms into the sandy earth as she struggled to rise. But her elbows buckled, and she fell flat. She heard the car’s slow, noisy escape; an invalid limping for cover. Then she heard nothing but thundering footsteps.
She quaked all over, adrenaline coursing through her body, when Zach dropped beside her and urged her onto her back.
“Christ.” His pulse fluttered wildly at the base of his neck, his breath striking her face in hot, fast gusts as he frantically surveyed her.
Stunned by what had happened, Paige clutched his shoulders with cramped fingers, soiling his shirt with a coating of mud on her palms. Her blood was rushing like a roller coaster thrill inside of her, threaded with fear and shock. The car was no longer in sight.
And he detonated. “If that wasn’t the most stupid, asinine thing to—”
“Oh shut up.” She glared at him, but she didn’t let go of him, her nails gouging into his skin.
“You’ve got a lunatic on your back and you leave me with some bullshit line.” Frowning darkly, he began to feel her, and his voice went hoarse. “Are you hurt?” His hands were invasive, shockingly delicious, running along her sides, checking everywhere. She felt electrified. “I asked—”
“I’m fine.”
She almost sobbed in despair when she had to release him, wanted to cling, touch something, touch him, but he fell onto his back at her side and plopped an arm across his forehead. “Son of a bitch just tried to kill you.”
I’M ALIVE.
Gripped by another, more potent feeling than fear, she saw his chest rise and fall heavily. His magnificent body sprawled on the ground, vibrating with strength. The gleaming streetlights caressed his firm jaw and mouth.
The night had gone deathly sti
ll, but her body burst into chaos. An overwhelming need ripped through her, staggering her, tearing his name out of her in a cragged whisper. “Zach?”
He dropped his arm, his eyes flashing with intent. “He’s not getting to you.”
He jolted into action, snatching up her small shoulder purse from where she didn’t recall dropping it, shoving his gun into his waistband at the small of his back, then half carrying and dragging her across the synthetic-grass hills and back to his apartment. He slammed the door behind them. “We’re leaving.” A black duffel fell at her feet. He got busy and shoved items inside the black bag. A laptop, cords, a manila folder.
All the while, she watched him. Blood sizzled in her body as if her veins were gas-soaked ropes lit by a torch.
Punching some numbers into his cell phone, he called in the license plate while he yanked out a pad and pencil from the desk and briskly jotted down something. He hung up fast, then frowned in concentration as he made more notes, his lips compressed; an avenging angel seething with protective instincts and testosterone. “We have to get out of here. Nordstrom will—”
“Zach?”
He glanced up at her, incensed and agitated.
Paige couldn’t help it. She flung herself at him and— oh, God. She set her lips on his. Recklessly kissing the warm flesh, spreading one hand across his locked, strong jaw.
He made a tormented sound from somewhere deep in his chest. The pad and pen crashed against the floor. He cupped her cheeks with two hands, tilted her head, and seized her lips like a man possessed, thrusting his tongue so deep and hard into her mouth she felt the sizzling, satiny lick down . . . there.
She cried out, and he growled, greedily suckling her tongue, suddenly unleashed.
“Jesus.” He fisted handfuls of her hair, drawing her closer to his tasting mouth, cocking his head. “Jesus, Paige, Jesus.”
Butterflies exploded in her stomach. She made an odd little sound of pleasure as he started plunging in and out, in and out, tasting, tasting more.
Driven by an urgency and thirst she hadn’t known, she looped her arms around his neck and melded to him. His tongue was strong, moist, and powerful as he twirled it around hers. She sipped from him with embarrassing vigor, as if trying to suck his essence into her body, so much so that she drew back all of a sudden, startled by her hunger.
Zach growled and backed her up, pinned her against the door with his weight, and ruthlessly dove for her lips once more. “Give me your mouth, Paige.”
Gasping, Paige grabbed handfuls of his hair and let him have it.
An odd gurgling sound rose up in her throat as their thirsty tongues explored. His hands clamped on her waist, holding her still as he intensified the kiss until she thought she’d drown. He searched so far inside her she was certain he was out for her heart.
The biting bulge of his erection scraped against her stomach. Her breasts throbbed where they pressed against his chest. And she thought she would seize this moment, because she was crazy, because she wanted him like she’d never wanted anything in her life. Her pelvis began to move, craving more of him, all of this man, this hunk, this protector.
She bit at his lip and he bit harder, devouring her damp lower lip, whispering, “Sweet, thirsty baby.”
His endearment spilled through her in a lust wave. She whimpered softly when he eased back a fraction, leaving her empty, in agony, in pain.
When he spoke again, running unsteady fingers down her cheek, his breath blew over her face, misty and warm and fragrant. “You want me.”
His eyes. They burned with a passion beyond desire, beyond longing, beyond anything physical or passing.
The wise thing to do would be to disentangle her shivering body from his, but instead she gripped his taut shoulders and fought for an explanation. “Must be the . . . shock.”
His heat singed her, made her yearn to feel it up close, to be burned to a million ashes.
“Shock. Right. Hell.”
Neither of them moved.
She didn’t know whose breath was shallower. Whose body felt tighter, hotter, against the other’s. But she didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to start thinking that no no no she shouldn’t be kissing a man right now, shouldn’t be squirming against him, but nothing had ever felt as good as he did. His mouth. The voracious, unchecked way he kissed her.
Blood thrilling in her veins, spiced with adrenaline, lust, and something indecipherable, she slid her shaking hands down the solid wall of his chest. He inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring, as he watched her with wild, flaming green eyes.
“Paige?”
He sounded puzzled. And he was firm and long and he was pulsing against her stomach. He smelled of sex and wanting. Darkly, avidly gazing down at her as no man, ever, in her life, had looked at her before.
The taut, bunched muscles of his body against hers sent dabs of fire across her belly, little devils of temptation licking her to sin.
She couldn’t voice what was happening to her. “I just . . . want . . . to . . . to kiss you more.”
As though losing some kind of internal battle, he tangled his fingers in her hair. “Christ, come here.”
Positively melting, Paige obeyed. Their lips latched, and they kissed. He groaned. She moaned.
Caressing the back of her head with his fingers, he took a breather for less than a second, realigned their heads, then covered her lips and they kissed some more. Kissed until she didn’t know if days had passed or minutes. Kissed until her mouth was hot and burning from his kiss and the rest of her body rivaled it.
His hands cupped her waist and then didn’t move, only held her still as his mouth did everything. His head moved, his lips moved, his tongue moved. Paige burned to bare her breast to him and ask him to lick it, burned to bare her soul to him and ask him to take it.
“Need to go.” His chest heaved roughly as he spoke. “Need to make you safe.” Setting his forehead against hers, he reluctantly rolled his head. “Just . . . give me a sec.” He took two, three, four breaths releasing another sound of frustration as he pushed away. “Argh. Okay. Let’s go.”
Even minutes later, when they were in his car, Paige couldn’t stop shaking. Zach was speaking to Nordstrom at police headquarters, briefing him on the happenings. Driver wore a black mask, widely built, definitely male, he said.
Paige hadn’t been able to see one whit, had been blinded by the headlights, the fear.
He’d barely hung up with Nordstrom, who was supposed to call if he knew anything else, when his phone vibrated at his hip. “Rivers,” he snapped. And went on to relate the same to another caller.
A wave of possessiveness rushed through her at the sight of his plush, stern, moving mouth glistening with the remains of her gloss. He wiped the back of his hand across it as though he could feel it— and it made her want to smear her gloss across his lips once more.
Trying to distract herself, she checked her own cell phone. Five missed calls from the real estate agent. Not the time to call the chatty woman and not in the mood for anything except more of what she’d recklessly started, she tucked the phone away.
Zach was wrapping up, listening to his superior now, his expression severe. Paige could feel the anger coming off him, and more than that, was aware of something else. The air between them pulsed, felt dense and charged with lightning. His eyes kept seeking hers as he spoke; the look in them was heated and probing and as personal as his kiss.
“Yeah, Lieutenant, I got her,” he finally said, and flipped his cell phone shut.
He gazed broodingly at her red, swollen, thoroughly kissed lips, one hand on the wheel, the other casting aside his phone and coming to rest on his knee.
Silence.
A light smattering of mud she’d smeared across his hard cheeks still blackened bits of his skin.
His thumb tapped restlessly against his muscular thigh as he stared out at the sea of lights ahead. “Do I owe you an apology?” She only stared, reacting to his voice with a quiet inner fre
nzy. Promptly he added, “For what happened back there?”
Somewhat despaired he’d even ask that, she shook her head. “I’m the one who started.”
“You’re on a high.” He shot her a pointed look that seemed to arrow down to her nipples. “Endorphins.”
No. She was high on him. Zachary Rivers.
Who made her heart flutter.
And suddenly, excitingly, the thought that he could be high on her too sent even more adrenaline pumping through her veins, gripping around her tummy, stimulating her nerves. He’d been so excruciatingly, torturously rigid. So excited to grope her. So hungry for her. God!
Yes. He had her all right. May his lieutenant and his colleagues and the entire world know.
Zach totally, completely, had her.
“You know what, Zach?” She stared outside, her mind turning bleak as she thought about the message, the car, that heartless, motherless bastard.
“Hmm.”
He sounded contemplative, and the minute she caught the grim expression on his face and noted his strong, jutting knuckles as he gripped the wheel, Paige knew he wasn’t far behind with his thoughts.
“I’m not going back to Seattle until we find him.”
CHAPTER 4
HE RENTED A ROOM.
Small, cheaply furnished. It was the kind of place you could rent for an hour. Hardly the kind of place one would look for an Avery. Zach could picture her staying in a hotel room with fresh-cut flowers and complimentary mints. This place had complimentary condoms. And the only flowers to be seen were the ones on the label of the plastic air freshener by the nightstand.
Loathing having had to bring her here, he secured the locks, searched the small bathroom, and went to the window to examine the pitch-dark alley below. Escape route, if necessary. He closed the blinds, and at the same time, he closed his eyes for a minute. Get a grip, Rivers.
But damn. He was reeling.
Paige running away from him . . . Paige running for her life . . . Paige clinging to him.
Some twisted bastard was after her and Zach burned with the need to protect her in ways he hadn’t been able to before. But he couldn’t think, dammit, couldn’t find his cool head.