By the Horns (11 page)

***

The decadent scent of a male drifted to Nat, permeating her pores. The hairs on her body rose and her nipples perked as though her body had responded to the hail, “A
man
is present.” Every inch of her stood at attention.

Not just any man. Sexy, stubborn, Kassian. She’d tried to blink away the image of him on his knees in the shower. All of his roughly-hewn muscles flexing as he scrubbed those large hands everywhere.

Nat jolted back into awareness as Mrs. Chen jabbed her side.
Ouch.
Damn right, though. Naughty daydreams had to wait. Nat had a strategy to plan.

She’d spent the last twenty minutes interrogating the old lady about the neighborhood. While
he
probably hadn’t followed her and Kassian into the alley or witnessed them sneak into this building, she’d be a fool not to cover their tracks.

Especially when it came to
him
. Rolling her shoulders, she steeled her courage. Just because she’d been sent to spy on him didn’t mean she’d have to face him. With luck, she could be in and out of Hong Kong without ever having to encounter the man who’d given her this lovely accessory—the bullet hole in her chest.

Mrs. Chen began clearing the tea. Nat leapt to her feet to help, but the woman shooed her off with a slap on her hand.

Damn, for an elderly lady, she hit hard.

“Thank you.” She backed off, whirled around, and bumped into a smirking Kassian.

“What were you two talking about?” He regarded her with distrust in the grim set of his mouth.

Hopefully, he didn’t misinterpret her anxiety over their target with a scheme to betray him. She had no right to his trust, but she wished he would place at least some faith in her. “Exits.”

The tension in his shoulders eased. “What’s the game plan?”

She shrugged. “We wait until nightfall. When it’s dark enough, we’ll exit via the underground parking garage and head toward our safe house. Hopefully, no one will follow.”

He bent and whispered as though he wasn’t convinced Mrs. Chen didn’t speak English. “Who are we hoping won’t follow?”

“The man who tracked us from the tea shoppe.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered into his ear. “Our target.”

The fingers of her free hand curled, nails digging into her palm. Before Kassian glimpsed her reaction, she shot past him toward the bathroom. One last peek over her shoulder revealed Mrs. Chen had cleared the tea and cornered Kassian into
oohing
and
aahing
over her ten grandchildren.

She cast him a smirk.
Sucker.
She might not be getting any hot water, but he was the one who’d marched into quicksand. Once the chatty old lady had him in her clutches—language barrier or not—she’d never release him.

Nat chuckled right up until she stepped under the spray.
Argh!
Freezing. “Damn you, Kassian.” Her teeth chattered so hard she worried they’d break. Sucking it up, she braced as she extricated her arms from where they hugged her torso to preserve body heat, and lathered up.

A quick rinse and she hauled ass out of the stall. The only clean towel left was also soaking wet. She grumbled another curse at Kassian. Damn, too bad Mrs. Chen hadn’t drugged his tea.

She tossed on a fresh outfit—dark pants, dark top, and a baseball cap she tucked her hair into. Night would fall soon. She planned to blend in as much as possible.

Kassian whistled low as she strolled into the living room. He blinked several times, his gaze glued to her chest. “How was your shower? Cold?”

She glanced down to find her nipples puckered against the tight fabric.
Hmm
, she should have worn a padded bra. “It was lovely, thank you. How are you enjoying your conversation?”

“Don’t understand a bloody word.” He grinned wide and pointed to the scattering of photographs on the glass coffee table, his large body crammed into a tiny antique sofa. The corner of her mouth tugged upward. Mrs. Chen perched beside him, her gnarled hand patting his forearm as she rifled through the photos, showing him each one and spouting Cantonese.

He nodded and kept smiling.

It was sweet. He didn’t speak her language, yet he sat, indulging an old woman’s pride in her family.

Mrs. Chen beamed a wide, tea-stained smile, and waved her hand for Nat to take a seat across from them. She obeyed, folding her hands in her lap.

The woman plucked a photo from Kassian and offered it to her. Nat smiled and accepted the picture with both hands. The image showed a family. Mother, father, and three little girls.

She lifted her lashes; Kassian’s intense scrutiny burned into her. She froze. Was he thinking the same thing as she? They both had similar picture-perfect family portraits hanging above the mantels of their houses. Smiling faces were a front. No one was ever as happy as they looked in those portraits.

The smiles on these faces appeared genuine. Like this family truly loved each other.

Mrs. Chen’s words droned in the background. Nat half-listened until her ears perked on a single phrase.

Red Death
. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a gasp.

“What is it?” Kassian leaned in over the glass coffee table.

Her breath iced in her throat and her gaze darted to Mrs. Chen for confirmation. The woman nodded, digging into her pocket for a handkerchief to wipe at the moisture pooling in her eyes.

“They died,” Nat whispered. “From the Red Death. They were on vacation in Florida when it, when they…” She choked on the rest of the words. Didn’t matter. Kassian’s silence spoke his understanding.

Suddenly, he grabbed Mrs. Chen and crushed her in his embrace.

And the large man hugging the fragile woman with the broken heart shattered the walls of Nat’s carefully forged defenses.

Chapter 9

Kassian hugged the shit out of Mrs. Chen. He’d never lost anyone, but he could imagine. Well, if he actually had a relationship with his parents, that would help fuel his empathy for sure.

He wasn’t a parent; he couldn’t fathom what it was to love and lose a child, but he did understand grief. Loss. Hopelessness.

Mrs. Chen tensed at first but, after a second, she melted right into him, whimpering. He rubbed her back and murmured soft, nonsensical words to her.

His actions seemed to help. After a few minutes, her sniffles stopped and she pulled away. He plucked the handkerchief from her leathery hands, lifted her glasses, and dabbed at her swollen eyes. She whispered words he took as gratitude.

He smiled and bent to kiss her cheek. Like a hen, she became flustered, clucked, and rose, tugging her baggy red sweater back into place over her thin frame. He started to rise beside her, but she waved him to remain seated and spoke instructions to Nat.

Nat hopped over to the lady and grasped her hands, giving them a tight squeeze. They exchanged a few words before Mrs. Chen headed into the bedroom and shut the door.

Hugging her arms across her middle, Nat resumed her seat. Her spine stiff, she fidgeted and finally folded her hands in her lap. Awkward tension filled the air. Mrs. Chen’s photographs remained scattered across the tabletop. He reached for a photo at the same time as Nat and their fingers crashed together. She snatched back her hand like he’d electrocuted it.

Kassian opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but the pallor of her skin stopped him. He’d never seen Nat so affected. Hell, her guard wasn’t lowered, it’d been blown to shit. Her lips quivered as a thousand emotions played across her face, and her eyes…

Damn. The vulnerability in those cocoa depths slapped him. The smack to his subconscious should have woken him up, set off the warning sirens in his brain, or at least left a note.

Nope, his good sense abandoned him. He stepped over the coffee table and bent, stroking his fingers down the side of her face to cup her cheek. She inhaled a shaky breath, closing her eyes.

“Who?” Had Nat lost someone to the plague, too? Was that why Mrs. Chen’s story affected her so deeply?

Her eyes flashed open. “It’s not important. But, please, you have to see why I can’t take a backseat here. I need this chance. I need to fight the Red Death just like you are.”

His chest tightened. If only he could connect the dots, but she wouldn’t let him. “What do you know about the Red Death?”

She pegged him with a hard stare. “More than anyone should.”

He ought to back off. Stop pressing her for answers. Keep things professional in this twisted mission. Or, perhaps, savor this tiny slice of revenge? He’d longed to hurt her, so many bloody times.

Never want to see you again.

Those six words had cut him more deeply than any blade could. She’d lacerated his chest, hacked open his ribs, and ripped out his heart as though she’d fucking dissected the organ. After she’d vanished without an explanation, he’d been furious. So bloody tortured. And hell, damaged.

Now, he offered her the same sympathy he’d dreamed of withholding. He’d vowed if and when she crawled back, he’d spit in her face. Make her feel the same suffering her abandonment inflicted on him.

He couldn’t do it. His chance had arrived, but he couldn’t fucking do it.

Nat needed him. Nothing else permeated his brain. Certainly not his sense of self-preservation.

After this assignment, she’d do to him what she’d done before. Leave. Probably laugh her ass off over the fucked-up hot mess she left behind.

He no longer cared. Not an ounce. He brushed his thumb across her cheek, reveling in the softness of her skin, the trust in her body as she leaned in to his. Just as he’d been overwhelmed to console Mrs. Chen, he was compelled to do the same for Nat.

Although his ideas of comfort differed drastically where the two women were concerned.

Releasing her chin, he glided his fingers along her slender throat. She swallowed hard beneath his fingertips, but didn’t stop him.

Didn’t challenge him; didn’t fight him.

He let his hand fall lower, across her collarbone to skim the side of her breast and down to her waist. The back of his mind beeped like a warning sensor set off, but the thudding of his blood through his brain and to parts lower, drowned it out. His muscles tensed as if his body feared she’d snap out of this dream and stop him.

Damn, did he want to touch her.

He’d denied himself for so long. From contact. From her. Hunger seized him. His cock strained against the front of his pants, more than eager after the earlier denial.

She licked her lips, drawing his gaze to their pink fullness. He recalled her taste. Sweet, forbidden. Did temptation ever taste like anything else?

He inhaled the coconut fragrance of her hair, lifted off her baseball cap, and tugged her ponytail loose. The silken, wavy locks cascaded around her shoulders. He closed his eyes and breathed her in. No doubt about it. She was his test.

And he was about to fail miserably.

***

Nat froze as Kassian devoured her with his smoldering eyes and seduced her with his electric caresses. Sparks of lust shot from where he dragged his calloused fingers along her collarbone, down to her core. Her sex clenched in anticipation. She hadn’t gotten laid in more than a year, so her lack of sexual fulfillment had to be the root cause of this horniness, right?

Even as she denied it, a small trickle of her conscience edged into the haze clouding her brain. Kassian had taken vows. Being here like this, with him, was wrong. Yet the outline of his hard cock pressing against the front of his pants spoke another story. She shifted in her seat. As the beast sized her up, the last thing she sought was to provoke it. She held still, waiting for him to back away, for him to come to his senses.

Because she sure as hell couldn’t.

Her body ached. Worse, her heart panged. She desired this man she had no right to pine for. Tilting her chin, she lifted her lashes to plead with him to break this off. Instead, she gasped. The intensity in his olive gaze sealed off any dissension.

Without warning, he pressed their lips together, curled his hand around the back of her neck, and hauled her up. She palmed his shoulder with the faintest intention of shoving him off, but the notion slipped from her mind as soon as her fingers grazed his hard muscle. Digging her nails into his shirt, she gripped him as tightly as he held her.

His tongue skimmed her lips before sliding inside her mouth and seeking hers in demanding, sensual thrusts.

Damn, but the man was a fantastic kisser.

The dark spice of his clove-scented breath, combined with his male scent, struck her like a shot of tequila. Hell, make that ten shots.

Suddenly, she didn’t care about his vows. About hers. About poor Mrs. Chen in the bedroom. There was only this seductive male in her arms, in her mouth, and maybe hoping to get into her pants.

He didn’t speak and he didn’t have to. Though years might have passed, their souls remained connected in a manner words couldn’t translate.

While he plundered her mouth, his free hand glided across her body with possession to stop at her ass and give it a tight squeeze. In one expert tug, he yanked down her pants, baring her black lace thong. She stepped out of the slacks. He coaxed her leg to wind around his waist. Bracing her bottom in one hand, he ground his thick, full length against her entrance. He hefted her higher, and she threw her other hand onto his shoulder to hold on tight.