Debra Webb - Striking Distance

“And this?” He gestured to her right shoulderblade when she straightened once more. “Did your roommate take a knife to you as well?”

Dammit, she’d forgotten about that old battle scar. Her first scuffle with a would-be mugger once she’d moved out on her own in college. He might have drawn first blood, but he’d also been the only one lying on the ground when the police finally arrived.

“I guess I forgot to mention that between my successful attempts at running away from the system, I survived a couple of foster homes. Nobody really wanted to deal with a rebellious teenager, but they didn’t want to lose the government check with my name on it.” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. And it didn’t, because she was only making this stuff up. But, like a good movie, it was based on true stories she’d heard while interning in a social services office. “People don’t bother with troubled teens unless it’s for one of two reasons.” She looked him straight in the eye via the mirror, sensing that she would see a reaction. “For the money or the sex.”

He flinched. She resisted the urge to pump her fist in the air and scream yes. She’d gotten to him...maybe just barely beneath the surface, but someplace under the skin all the same. She’d sensed a resistance in him before when she brought up the past. He definitely did not like going there. The first piece of the puzzle. She might not have the opportunity to dig more deeply, but she’d learn what she could until it was over.

She turned around, stared up into those cold, hard eyes once more. “What about you?” She touched his jaw, tracing the outline of an old scar that gave him a permanent dimple before he could evade her touch. Her gaze moved lower, to another scar where his shirt opened into a vee at his throat. She hadn’t been able to see that one last night in the low lighting. A jagged little line a shade or two lighter than the rest of his skin.

Some unknown force driving her, she reached toward him with her other hand. Oddly he didn’t move away. She released the next button of his shirt. And then another and another until it lay open to his waist where he’d tucked it into his jeans. Too caught up in the moment to note his reaction other than the fact that he allowed her to continue, she pulled the shirt free of his jeans, pushing the sides farther apart so that she could see more of his well-defined torso.

For one long moment she couldn’t breathe. There were too many scars to count...some small, thin lines...others much more lethal looking. She wanted to ask him about them, but when she opened her mouth no words would come. Instead she touched one particularly brutal-looking scar so damn close to his heart she couldn’t imagine how he’d survived the wound. She felt him tense beneath her fingertips, but, again, he didn’t move away.

That extra instinct she possessed was screaming at her now, warning that she was about to dive headlong into dangerous territory...delve past some unseen boundary of no return, and still, she couldn’t stop herself. She looked into those ice-blue eyes, letting him see every confusing emotion she felt at that moment.

“Still think I’m cute?”

Right now—this moment—was the turning point. Her response to him now would determine whether or not he allowed her full access. He refused to trust her, but some part of him wanted to believe that she was telling him the truth.

Her future depended upon this one defining second.

She went up on tiptoe, and even then, reaching that grim mouth was a task. He stood several inches taller than her. She brushed her lips lightly to his. Something electric zipped through her...startled her.

He pulled away...eyed her suspiciously.

Just when she felt certain he wouldn’t respond, he grabbed her, whirled her around and pinned her against the wall with his big body. His mouth came down hard on hers. The kiss was punishing, savage. A mixture of desire and fear surged through her veins. She couldn’t deny the attraction, but his touch was brutal.

She shoved at his chest. Every muscle her body encountered was like granite. Her lip burned, the wound reopening beneath his onslaught. The tang of blood had her pushing harder against him.

“Wait,” she murmured breathlessly when he broke the seal of their lips just long enough to take a breath. She touched her lip, swiped at the trickle of blood. He watched her intently, his own breath ragged, but a good deal more controlled than hers.

Just then she remembered the monitor and made a conscious effort to slow her respiration...her heartbeat. If Maverick was still monitoring her activity, she didn’t want him barging in.

“Not like that,” she whispered. “Like this.” She told herself it was a mistake, but that didn’t stop her. She kissed him tenderly...slowly. He didn’t move a muscle...held perfectly still. She kissed those firm lips until her own unexpected reaction forced her to break the contact. Not taking the time to evaluate her motives, she pressed her lips to the tiny scar on his cheek and then moved lower. Scar after scar she acknowledged with her lips...tracing each with her tongue. Her fingers fisted in the worn soft cotton of his shirt, and she fought the crazy need swirling inside her. This was work, she repeated mentally over and over. She dropped down to her knees, careful not to break the contact of her lips against his skin.

She was winning this battle. He braced his hands against the wall, his eyes closed and for the first time since she’d met him, the hard lines of his face softened just a fraction. But that was the only thing soft about him. Flirting with danger, she drew her tongue along the warm flesh just above his waistband. If she didn’t stop now...she might have to finish this but every instinct told her that seduction was her only chance of reaching this guy.

Without warning, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet. When her gaze collided with his, he looked totally unaffected. Anything he’d felt was long gone.

“I’ll take you home now.”

He released her and walked out of the room. Tasha let go a shaky breath and sagged against the wall to pull herself together. She was hot...damn hot and wet. She’d enjoyed that more than she should have—definitely more than he had, it seemed.

Damned fool, she railed at herself silently.

She knew better than to let that happen.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she just shook her head. The chance of a lifetime and she was going to screw it up playing amateur psychologist.

Whatever this guy’s problem, it wasn’t her job to save him. Her mission was to deliver him up to Lucas Camp for one thing and one thing only.

To die.

Chapter 14

When he pulled the SUV next to the curb outside her apartment building, Tasha couldn’t help thinking she’d had her chance and now it was over.

This wasn’t the kind of guy to allow any sort of strings. She most likely would not see him again. But at least she knew where he lived, for the moment. She had his license plate number and a damned up-close description. But that’s it. She knew absolutely nothing else about him.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” she said in the silence that ensued after he’d shifted into Park.

He turned toward her, his gaze cutting right through her like cold, hard steel. “Does it matter?”

She nodded, feeling startled by and wholly unprepared for the emotions he wrought in her.

“Seth.”

“Seth,” she echoed, thinking that it somehow fit. Some Egyptian slayer or something. “I like that.”

He stared at her for a second that turned into ten before she started to squirm. There was something about his eyes...

She couldn’t just get out now...she had to leave him with some reason to contact her again. She grabbed a pen from the console that separated them, then reached for his hand. He resisted at first, but eventually allowed her to draw it to her lap. She jotted her number on his palm.