Читать книгу Immortal Redeemed - Linda Thomas-Sundstrom, Linda Thomas-Sundstrom - Страница 9

Chapter 3

Kellan maneuvered his way through the steady stream of traffic, drawing double takes from people in passing cars. He got more attention from pedestrians, who alternately viewed him as a threat or with envy while eyeing the shiny black bike.

He’d never been to Seattle. The streets had an uncomfortable look, as if the modern and older architectural styles were at war with each other. This, Kellan supposed, was another kind of metaphor for the dichotomy of the types of beings existing here. Humans versus their older, genetically modified nightmares. Werewolves. Vampires. And a whole host of other things.

Traffic, even at ten thirty, was thick. Horns sounded. Music reached him from the doorways of restaurants and clubs. Voices called to other voices, and a helmeted guy on a Suzuki gave him a thumbs-up.

Centered within all that chaos, Kellan’s feelings morphed into something much more raw and anxious. If the woman behind him was the shut-off valve to his overextended existence, and he chose to activate that valve, his soul could be set free. At long last, he would be able to close his eyes and rest.

He had wanted this for more years than he could count.

“Turn here,” his passenger directed.

Kellan did as she instructed, wanting to see where this beauty would take him. Having been a police officer, she’d know most streets by heart. She also would have recognized potential trouble when facing it, and when facing him, even before his understated commands had helped her to get on the bike. Maybe he didn’t come off as scary as he thought. Yet tugging an old soul free from someone unknowingly housing such a thing might change her mind about that. It wouldn’t be easy and could prove even tougher if he was up against someone trained to handle herself.

“Turn again,” she said.

Simply wrenching secrets from this woman would cost him less anxiety and get him to the end point quicker. The problem was that he already considered her special, and these days he reserved muscle work for dusting monsters.

She had a death grip on him. If she truly was ignorant of the soul she housed, this woman couldn’t possibly see the irony in that.

Fortunately, in this intricate game of hide-and-seek, he planned to come out the winner. That didn’t mean he didn’t like her arms around him and her heat. In fact, what he desired most right now was the time necessary for him to coax answers from her the old-fashioned way, by acting on an escalating physical attraction that would lead to sex. Nakedness and sex. Hard bodies on a soft bed that held lingering traces of this woman’s wonderful perfume.

Hell, he amended. Sex on any surface would do. One last time. Would she allow him that? Could he get her to trust a stranger enough to invite him into her bed without using his influence?

After coming all this way, was he going to wait for her to decide, or help her along?

* * *

“Almost there,” McKenna called out, and the handsome biker followed her directions without question.

It was all she could do to hold on to the stranger doing her a favor. He hadn’t headed to the garage where her car was parked, so she opted for plan B. There was no way she’d let him know where she lived. In her present state she’d be an easy target for any pervert on the prowl, and he’d already had his hands on her.

Didn’t matter that she’d liked it.

What did matter was why she had allowed such a thing.

“Fifth and G. Just a few more right turns and we’ll be there,” she said, not sure he’d hear that above the roar of the engine. But her gloriously muscled, incredibly handsome champion nodded his head.

He was a good-looking bastard for sure, from his cropped auburn mane to his boots. Everything in between seemed to have been molded to perfection by someone paying strict attention to detail. The fitted leather getup he wore enhanced his superior shape and smelled sinfully earthy.

She paid attention to the way he moved, and found him graceful and in complete control of the black custom Harley. With all his muscle and sinew, the guy was like a panther in motion. But he was too tall, too handsome and way too male. He might present himself as a white knight dipped in black leather, but in his presence she was experiencing a moment of moral and physical weakness.

It was a well-known fact that looks could be deceiving, so why the hell was she on this bike?

For the life of her, McKenna couldn’t find a reason for that.

Her old partner at Seattle PD would have rolled his eyes mockingly when catching sight of this guy, suggesting that a package like this one was bound to be bad. The nurses on her shift at the hospital would have drooled.

So, okay, he appeared to be physically perfect. The odds of this biker being merely a Good Samaritan without an agenda of his own rang in at about fifty-fifty. Granted, she’d been near enough to fainting on the street corner to have seen the lights dimming, and there was no way she could have made it to her car. But did that justify accepting aid from a stranger?

Other then Derek Miller, her ex-partner both on the force and in her bed, she hadn’t allowed herself this close to a bad boy without flashing her badge. Yet McKenna was pretty sure she had never wrapped her arms around anything so fine as this specimen.

“You can slow down now,” she called out, wondering if she had a subconscious motive for accepting this lift. Could she possibly use this stud to punish Derek for not being the right man for her? By flaunting someone in front of Derek who was in no way right? The exact opposite of right?

No. That wasn’t it. She’d never been the type to rub things into a partially closed wound. And Derek had, at one time, professed to love her.

“Fifth and G,” she repeated. “Half a block down.”

The guy glanced at her when they stopped for a red light. “All right,” he said, rocking the windblown look with deep auburn hair only a few inches long that smelled like dangerous forbidden detours.

His worn leather jacket, soft against her cheek, had a logo on the back that she was too tired to lean back and examine. Anyway, it was probably best if she didn’t know what he was up to when he wasn’t volunteering to help ladies in distress.

Adding to the cliché of guys on bikes these days, her white knight had tattoos. Rounded edges of fine black scrolls were visible at the nape of his neck. Some sort of Celtic design, she guessed, and no big deal since she also had a tattoo.

In spite of not quite believing that she had accepted this guy’s offer of assistance, she wasn’t a complete idiot. McKenna felt relatively safe on the bike. The knife in her pocket was for protection. She also knew how to get an arm around this guy’s throat if he misbehaved. For some reason, though, she had a feeling he was okay, and was sincere in his wish to help her out of a jam. In this case, McKenna preferred to trust her instincts.

When the bike swerved to the right, she hung on. But after they reached her destination, getting away from him would be the smart thing to do. And also the sensible move, since she was already imagining what a night with him might be like, and how he’d look without the leather—buck naked, bronze, intimidatingly perfect.

Would she stoop to that?

If times were different... If she was different and didn’t know better, due to the things she’d witnessed both as a cop and in the ER, she might have taken this guy up on a night in the sack just for the hell of it. For reliving the thrill of her days on the force, when adrenaline surges were a coveted daily rush.

For a minute, she wanted to forget about taboos and melt into a guy’s capable arms, free to express herself with a stranger in ways she never would have dared to address with Derek. She had been strong for so damn long. She wanted to experience what a man like this, with a body like this, could do to make her forget the nightmares. Only with a stranger could she indulge in that kind of vulnerability.

Pressing her face against his broad back, McKenna shut her eyes, loving the feel of the wind in her hair, hoping her instincts were right. This really had been quite a night. She was holding on to the sexiest man on the planet, who was also the kind of man all mothers warned their daughters to avoid.

Help was on hand, though. There would be plenty of cops to give reality a push when they reached the destination she’d chosen. She would wave goodbye to this guy, and he’d leave.

“Thank you,” she shouted, leaning with him as the Harley swept around a curve. “I mean it.”

He nodded.

Fifth and G was the location of the latest crime—the place where the last poor young man in the emergency room had got his throat slashed. Detective Derek Miller, in his recent career advancement, would have taken charge of the scene, and he would see to it she ended the night without making a bigger fool of herself.

With that in mind, McKenna almost regretted the thought that this handsome hunk of manhood, with his big serious eyes and body like leather-coated sin, might have given her a second wind on a mattress. And that he might have provided her with something to look forward to now that her more dangerous days had been left behind, along with her gun and her badge.

“You’re sure this is the place?” he asked in a deep, silky tone as he pulled over to a curb marked off-limits by a length of yellow crime tape.

“I’m sure,” McKenna replied. What she wasn’t sure about was how she’d get off the bike now that she’d arrived, and if she even wanted to, good intentions and common sense aside.

Seriously, it wasn’t like her to be torn on issues of safety. Strangely enough, she had begun to feel safe with her arms around this stranger’s waist. Safer than she’d felt for a very long time. And that was a surprising revelation.

“I’m guessing you don’t live here,” he said, looking around.

“No. A friend of mine will take over from here. I appreciate your help in getting me this far.”

“Your friend is Detective Miller?”

“How did you know that?”

He swiveled to hand her the cell phone she’d forgotten about. “You called him in front of me.”

Losing the phone had been another unacceptable mental lapse and a slip in her safety net. Just how badly was she looking for trouble? She hadn’t made any effort to get off the bike, a fact her biker would have noticed. She was sending mixed signals, damn it, and for no good reason.

“Maybe you could call the detective over,” her companion suggested with his eyes trained on her. “Or maybe you’d like me to do the honors?”

“I’ll find him on my own,” McKenna said. “I’m not sure he’d like you.”

“I’m quite certain he wouldn’t,” he agreed.

Easing back, McKenna checked out the logo on his back. Blood Knights didn’t sound good. But it wasn’t any local gang she was familiar with.

“What do you do, other than riding a Harley?” Her former cop tone came through on that question.

He shrugged. “I travel.”

“That’s all? You don’t work?”

“Would that make you feel better about accepting my help?”

“Immensely.”

The grin he flashed made her feel morally weaker, and quite prejudiced about the truth of beauty being everything. As if the smile were contagious, McKenna felt her own lips rebelliously upturn.

Those light blue eyes of his were a shocking contrast to the sculpted features any male model would have given eyeteeth for. His eyes seemed to be lit from within.

She was starting to think she’d dreamed him up.

He was still staring at her.

“I didn’t mean to pry,” she said. “I have a tendency to speak too quickly and demand everything. It’s both a habit and a fault.”

“I get it,” he said. “And it’s okay.”

And yet she still hadn’t made that call to Derek. Minutes had gone by at the curb. An officer McKenna didn’t immediately recognize had caught sight of them and was on his way over. She would ask that officer to get Derek.

“Maybe you should go,” she suggested to the man beside her.

“With or without you?” he asked, as if he possessed the ability to read her mind and knew she didn’t really want to be at this crime scene, now that she was. Maybe he sensed she was too tired to handle anything more, including another cop’s biased queries about her condition and her ride.

McKenna also had an uncanny feeling that her rescuer might be reluctant to leave her, and the idea produced a thrill.

“Back to the hospital?” he asked. “Someplace where we can call a cab?”

McKenna bit her lip to keep from reciting her address out loud. In her mind’s eye, she pictured the black jacket slipping off this guy’s broad shoulders. She could almost feel the texture of his golden skin beneath her hands, and imagine the savage way she’d go for his pants.

Those brazen, totally unacceptable images scattered when another cop called out, “Randall, is that you?” He shone a flashlight in her direction.

She and her leather-clad knight turned their heads toward the young cop at the same time.

“Yeah,” she called back. “Just checking things out for old times’ sake.”

Lowering her voice, McKenna whispered, “Hospital,” willing her rescuer to take her away without further delay or remarking about her wishy-washy mental state. After all, he’d mentioned waiting for someone near the hospital. Quite possibly she’d been an unwelcome kink in his timeline, and he’d be glad to get back to whomever he’d been waiting for.

The streak of jealousy that came with the idea of this guy belonging to another woman was fierce and unexpected, arriving with the force of a sucker punch. Imagining some other woman’s arms around his waist, inhaling the same musky maleness she’d inexplicably begun to desire, made her hot under the collar.

What if that other woman were to tug that zipper down slowly, inch by inch, to expose what waited to be discovered by a worthy mouth or hand? Trace the pattern of that rolling black tattoo on his neck with her tongue?

Damn it!

Several more choice words slipped out of her mouth before the guy said a gravelly “Hold tight,” revved the bike’s engine and lifted his feet.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” McKenna muttered as the night wind again assailed her and the yellow crime tape disappeared behind them.

* * *

While he might never have imagined it, Kellan now found that he could be persuaded to wait a little longer to discover the extent of this woman’s secrets. Not long. Just enough time to explore the hills and valleys of her beautiful body and indulge in some monumental lovemaking.

He sensed now that she might permit that kind of intimacy. As an experiment, he decided to let go of his own wishes and find out.

“Second left,” his passenger directed in a hoarse, weary voice that also held a hint of invitation.

Kellan took another corner, knowing that turning where she indicated would eventually circle them back to the yellow tape and whomever she had decided not to see there just two minutes ago.

Change of heart?

Go with the gut?

To hell with instinct?

Was she back to considering him a threat?

“Stop,” she directed after they had gone two more blocks, maybe as a test to see if he would do as she asked.

Kellan pulled over, planted his boots, waited to see what she’d do next and what she expected.

“Thanks,” she muttered, loosening her hold on him slightly.

“My pleasure.”

They were parked in front of an old commercial building that was six stories high and made of brick covered over with a dark coat of paint. Lights glowed in the third-and fifth-story windows. Weak overhead lanterns illuminated the entrance and its large metal door.

Kellan turned to look at his passenger. “You live here?”

“Yes. I won’t be asking you in, though, for obvious reasons.”

“Obvious reasons,” Kellan repeated, nodding his head. “Completely understandable. Would you like me to walk you to your door?”

“I don’t think so. You’re too...”

She had a habit of not finishing her sentences. And they were about to return to the previous conversation dealing with what she might think of him.

“I’m too terrifying,” he supplied, filling in the blanks. “I’m an unknown. As I said earlier, I get that. You don’t know me, and vice versa. So, off you go. I can wait here until you get inside, and then I’ll be on my way.”

She didn’t move. Either she wasn’t physically able to hurry, or she was having second thoughts about leaving him.

“Okay, then.” Kellan shut off the engine and climbed off the bike. He took hold of her elbow, absorbing the shocks of electricity accompanying the touch.

Christ, if she affected him so greatly, there definitely had to be more to this connection than merely a male-female vibe. And since he hadn’t encouraged this latest round of compliance, the attraction seemed to be mutual.

“You’re different,” she said, studying him intently and in the way he’d want her to look at him once they were joined at the hips. A vision of entwining legs and limbs seared itself into his mind. Kellan shook his head to scatter the image.

“Different, when compared to what?” he asked.

“Everyone else.”

If you only knew.

“Should I take that as a compliment?” he asked.

“Actually, I’m not sure it was one.”

Smiling, Kellan let go of her arm and held both of his hands up in a gesture indicating he’d back off. “Then I will say good-night from here.”

“Yes. From here,” she agreed without moving or taking the fire in her gaze down a notch.

“I’m not sure what you want,” he confessed after another minute of silence passed. Though he had a good enough idea. Chances were decent that she truly wanted him as badly as he wanted her and this fragile-looking woman had an edge he hadn’t yet fully witnessed. She might even crave danger, when he was danger personified.

Slowly, carefully, he helped her off the bike and took hold of the collar of her coat. This time when she stumbled close, he tilted her head back with his finger, grinned wickedly when her eyes met his and dared to rest his mouth lightly on hers.

He waited for the slap that didn’t come before applying more pressure. This wasn’t a real kiss—more like a test of wills and a bargain between them that had finally been exposed.

Her participation in the kiss would be a green light and would shatter any remaining roadblocks leading to her apartment. If she didn’t kiss him back, he’d have to regroup.

Ah, but her mouth was exactly as he had imagined it would be. Her soft, supple, wind-chilled lips tasted like mint toothpaste. They trembled slightly. Her eyes were closed.

“What are you thinking?” Kellan asked her silently. “Who am I to you?”

He waited, impatient, hopeful, until the lips beneath his finally parted and her warm breath seeped into his mouth.