Kidnapped by the Billionaire (33 page)

“But Fitzgerald is dead,” Honor pointed out. “So why does Jericho, or whoever this man is, want her now?”

“Good fucking point.” Gabriel paced back toward Eva, fists clenched tight. Christ, not being able to do anything sucked balls. “If it's an alliance he wanted, then he's shit out of luck now.”

“Unless he wants to take over Fitzgerald's operation,” Eva said. “Then again, why would he need Violet? From what I can gather about this dude, he's pretty goddamn powerful. He could just waltz in and take it if he wanted to.”

“So there's absolutely nothing about this guy anywhere?” Alex asked, black brows drawn together.

“Nope.” Eva pulled a face. “All I managed to find were mentions of him. And from the sounds of it, even the people who work for him don't know who he is.”

“Excellent. Another shadowy underworld figure.” Alex's tone was acidic. “Just what we need.”

Gabriel stopped pacing, abruptly sick of all the talking. He wanted to act. The longer they pissed about trying to figure things out, the longer it was going to take to get Violet back. And he
really
wanted to get Violet back. Fitzgerald had screwed enough with his family. This shit was going to end.

“What's happening with Violet?” He looked at Zac. “Any movement on that little tracking device?”

The big mercenary shook his head. “No. Looks like she's back at Hunt's apartment.”

“At least my sweater is,” Honor murmured.

Not appreciating the reminder, Gabriel shot her a narrow glance. “Yeah, well, that's all we got, so we'll assume that she's there.” He glanced once more back at Zac. “Shall we go pay Mantel a little visit then?”

“I can do this on my own, Gabe.”

“I know you can, but I gotta do something.” He only just refrained from kicking the coffee table. “Waiting around like this is driving me fucking insane.”

“Yes,” Honor said, pushing herself up from the couch. “Please take him with you, Zac. He's driving me insane too.”

“I'll join you,” Alex offered. “I could do with some fresh air.”

“With your shoulder like that?” Zac nodded toward the shoulder in question. “I don't think so.”

Alex raised a brow. “And here was I thinking you were actually going to chat.”

“I could go,” Katya offered. “I am quite skilled at negotiations.”

“Oh I know how skilled you are, Katya mine.” Alex was grinning. “Believe me, I know.”

Katya gave him a disdainful look, yet the corner of her mouth had turned up.

“Are we done here?” Gabriel growled, in no mood to watch Alex and Katya flirt with each other. “Because if you hadn't noticed, there's some important shit going down that's gotta be handled.”

“Hey Gabe. Chill out.” Eva put her laptop in the battered black messenger back that sat beside her chair then got to her feet. “Okay, if you guys are going to have a Zac chat with that bastard, I'll get back home and do some more digging about this Jericho guy.”

Gabriel refrained from telling her his opinions about the idea of “chilling out.” How the fuck was he supposed to do that when his half sister was about to be used as bait to lure out some major goddamn crime lord? It didn't matter that he barely knew her, that he'd only had a few days to get used to the idea of having a sister at all. She was the only family he had and he wasn't going to let anything happen to her.

Zac, however, caught his eye, and Gabriel knew the other man understood. Zac had had a sister once too.

“Actually,” Alex said. “I think I will come with you two. I remember Mantel from the good old days back at the Lucky Seven. Might be able to think of some good leverage.”

Gabriel glanced at Alex and saw the same look he'd seen in Zac's eyes.

“Welcome to the club, Gabe,” his friend said dryly. “Isn't it wonderful having a sister?”

*   *   *

Violet woke with something large, hot, and extremely heavy lying on top of her. It certainly wasn't the quilt, though that was pretty heavy. The quilt wasn't breathing for one thing.

Sleepily, she opened her eyes. It took her brain a couple of seconds to catch up with the fact that she wasn't in her own bed, though she felt comfortable enough to be. And that she wasn't alone.

A thrill of fear went though her before she remembered.

Elijah.

She blinked and reoriented. She was in his room. In his bed. Which meant that the heavy thing lying on top of her was likely to be six feet, four inches of muscle-packed male. And sure enough, when she looked down, a powerful arm was wrapped possessively around her waist, as weighty and strong as iron chains.

It made her feel good, despite the near suffocation factor. As if he didn't want to let her go. A dangerous thing to think about a man like him, especially when he'd been very clear about what he was and was not going to give her.

Ignoring the feeling, Violet twisted so she faced him and saw that he was asleep, thick black lashes lying still on his sharp cheekbones, his breathing slow and regular. He looked so much younger, his face relaxed in sleep, all that seething, dark, cold menace hidden. Even … vulnerable, a word she'd never thought could be applied to a man as hard as he was.

Except he hadn't always been Elijah Hunt. He'd once been a man called Kane, who'd been in love with his wife. Who'd lost her.

Violet followed the path of the scar on his face, her fingers itching to trace it for some inexplicable reason. Maybe this man here, fast asleep with his arm around her, was that Kane. A kinder, gentler man. A more vulnerable man.

A scarred man.

She studied his face, fascinated all of a sudden. Where had he gotten that scar? And the other ones, because there were lots of other ones. She'd seen them last night as he'd kept her beneath him, or above him, or in front of him, surrounding her with that hot hard body of his, that equally hot, hard cock buried deep inside her. He hadn't let her touch him though, no matter how much she'd begged. And she had begged, pathetic damn woman that she was.

Her gaze dropped to the tattoo of the eagle on his chest, carrying the heart dripping blood. And she couldn't help it this time, she got one arm free and put her fingers on it. His skin was so smooth and hot, the muscle beneath it hard.

She thought she knew what that tattoo meant. It was for his wife, wasn't it?

He loved her too much.
Elijah's voice last night, blaming Kane. Blaming himself. Which was stupid because, God, he hadn't known then what her father was. How could he? Not even she'd known, and she'd been his daughter.

Violet spread her hand out on his chest. He hadn't wanted to talk, yet he'd given her that little piece of his own tragedy nevertheless. He'd trusted her with it.

His heart beat heavy and strong beneath her palm and suddenly her breath shivered in her throat, desire catching her like thorns in a bramble bush. She wanted to touch him, taste his skin, have him moan in her ear the way she'd moaned in his. Drive him as crazy as he'd driven her the night before. Make her mark on him somehow before he let her go.

The thought made her glance away, down at her own body pressed hard and tight against his. Examining the marks he'd left on her. The bruises from his kisses and his teeth on her breasts and down further, on her inner thighs. He'd probably left them on her throat too since that, apparently, was a major erogenous zone for her, and he'd seemed to have made it his mission to find out all those little places on her body that made her gasp and burn.

Pity vice versa was a no go.

She let her fingers run down over the tattoo and further, across the hard, sculpted muscle of his abs. He felt so good. Powerful and strong, and yet so warm. This man wasn't cold, he was a goddamn bonfire.

Her fingers brushed lower and she felt his abdominal muscles tense beneath her fingertips. Okay, so did that mean he was awake now? But he didn't move and he didn't speak, so she kept touching him, moving even lower to the trail of hair that led down between his powerful thighs. And lower still, her fingers moving over the smooth, hot skin of a very impressive morning erection.

A shudder went through him as she curved her fingers around him, but still he didn't speak. Nor did he pull away.

She didn't look at him, sensing somehow that eye contact would break the spell. That he'd end up pulling away or turning it back on her, and she would have lost this chance. So carefully she kept her gaze on the tanned skin of his chest, letting her fingers measure the length and girth of him, stroking up and down his shaft then lightly circling the sensitive skin around the head.

His breathing changed, becoming harsher, his body tensing against hers.

Violet circled his cock with her hand and squeezed lightly. She'd only touched a man like this once before, and that had been Aaron, her one and only boyfriend. They'd never slept together, though she'd gone down on him a couple of times, a process that hadn't been all that successful since Aaron had been so nervous of her father finding out, he'd found it difficult to keep it up.

He'd been afraid with good reason as it turned out.

Elijah was different though. He'd never been afraid of her father and he was a damn sight tougher, harder and more powerful than Aaron had ever been. God, why did she find that so helplessly attractive?

Whatever the reasons, it was majorly hot and so was he. And she wanted to taste him. Right now.

Slowly, holding him tight in her hand, Violet bent to press her mouth to his chest. The salty flavor of his skin made her shiver with delight and she couldn't resist touching him with her tongue, licking him like a cat.

Then before she knew quite what was happening, one large, warm hand came to settle on the back of her head, his fingers curling into her short hair, and he shoved her down.

Oh, so he
was
awake. Very awake.

His body shifted and she found herself lying between his thighs as he sat up, his dick still held tight in her fist. Once again he didn't speak, putting his other hand on her head, moving his grip until she was held firmly between his hands, and there was pressure as he urged her head down even further.

Her throat was dry and her heartbeat was speeding up, the ache of desire suddenly as sharp as her hunger.

It was very clear what he wanted her to do.

Obeying without thought, Violet gripped him tighter and opened her mouth, circling the satiny skin of his cock head with her tongue. The sharp hiss of his indrawn breath sounded in the quiet of the bedroom, his hand moving again, fingers curling even tighter in her hair.

And oh Jesus, he tasted so good. Salty and musky and male. She closed her eyes and began to explore him in earnest, licking his hard shaft then circling once again the slick head.

He made a growling sound, deep in his throat, his hips flexing, pressing his cock insistently against her lips so that she had no choice but to open her mouth and let him inside. She shivered helplessly as he slid in deep, pressing against the back of her throat. But she took him, because this was what she'd been wanting to do since last night. Make him feel good, take the pain away. And finally he was letting her.

It would have been better if he hadn't been the one in charge, but she had a feeling that would always be the case with Elijah. He wasn't a man who handed control to others, not even a little bit. So she'd have to work with what she had and that, as it turned out, was quite a lot.

As he began to thrust into her mouth, she sucked him, licked him. Squeezed him with her hand. And with her other hand, she began to stroke him. His stomach, his thighs, and further, sliding to cup his balls, then feeling them begin to tighten in her hand.

He made another deep, growling sound as she stroked them too, squeezing the base of his cock, increasing the suction. His grip on her had tightened, his breathing ragged and harsh.

“Fuck,” he said finally, the word almost sounding like a prayer. “Fuck, princess.”

And then he was thrusting harder, faster, and making short, rough sounds as he fucked her mouth. Until he fell out of rhythm, his body abruptly drawing so tight she thought he might break. Then he let out a low, guttural roar as he came, his hips jerking, his fingers so tight in her hair it was painful. She kept her eyes closed, her heart thundering as she swallowed him down, feeling weirdly as though she'd won a victory of some kind.

A strange, tense moment passed, his hands on her head, his cock still semihard in her mouth, his body shuddering. Then he pulled her head away from him and rolled to the side, putting his feet on the floor and getting out of the bed.

She blinked as he walked from the room without a backward glance.

Great. What had she done now? Had the blowjob been that crap?

But no, she knew it wasn't that. He was so guarded, so wary, and maybe she'd managed to crack his defenses just then. And perhaps he'd walked away so he could get them back up again.

Yeah, probably a little too much amateur psychology, but at least that was a better reason than because he'd hated having her mouth on him.

The only problem was that the whole thing had left her aching and restless, need pulsing hot and heavy between her thighs. She could taste him on her tongue and, God help her, that only made her hotter.

Slowly, she sat up, debating whether or not to follow him, maybe entice him back to bed. And then he appeared in the doorway again, her clothes in his hands.

The expression on his face was impenetrable as he came over to the bed and tossed the clothes down on it. “Get dressed,” he said shortly. “I'll get us some breakfast and then we're going out.”

Violet opened her mouth to suggest that maybe breakfast could wait for a moment, but he was already going over to the dresser near the windows and taking out some clothes for himself. His movements were short and sharp, and he was radiating tension like a fire radiates heat.