Crystal Mac: A prologue novella to Captive Series Book 3 HELL'S HILLTOP (8 page)

Mac watched the blood ooze from her body and swallo
wed again. “You need stitches.”

Crystal lowered herself onto the side of the tub. “No, I don’t.”

He moved a plastic tugboat out of the way, added it to the basket of toys on the floor. “You look like you’ve lost too much blood already.”

“It regenerates fast.”

“But you said you gave two pints to Derek Saturday night.”

She moved her head from side to side, popped some joints. “Yeah, and it didn’t help, but I can’t go to a hospital, remember? Just use the butterfly strips, it’ll be good enough.”

Mac agreed a little too quickly, since the thought of digging out Melanie’s sewing kit made the tiled room spin. “I wish Mel were here,” he mumbled as he uncapped the peroxide.

Crystal
made a sound of disgust as she shrugged out of her hoodie. “She’s not near as much fun as you are.”

Again, Mac found himself faced with the boobs. He turned on the bathtub faucet and plugged the drain. “Sit tight, I’ll get you some of her clothes.”

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” she retorted and pulled down her black athletic pants.

Her small curvy ass
was
something he hadn’t seen before. “Crystal…”

One foot went into the tub. “Mac, I’ve had your cock in my mouth. Get over it.” The other foot followed. Gingerly, she lowered herself into the hot water and moaned with pleasure. “God, this feels good.”

He had a well-stacked naked woman in his tub, but at the same time she was turning the clear water a ghastly crimson color. It was the strangest thing, fighting nausea and a king-sized woody at the same time. With a cleansing breath, Mac gathered the supplies and moved them to the lid of the toilet. He sat on the edge of the tub while she hugged her knees, gave him easy access to what appeared to be a knife wound.

Everything she’d told him made sense. He believed her, was more than relieved she’d come back. But there were still a lot of questions that needed to be answered. He focused on the washcloth as he squeezed water over the gash and
cleaned the blood from her body.

“Where exactly did you go after you ditched me?” he asked levelly.

Crystal closed her eyes, rested her cheek against her knees. “I had to stay a little longer than planned.”

“Why?”

“The pills.”

Right…
assuming that’s what they were. “How did you know about them?”

“Did you notice anything strange about the other ghosts you saw tonight?”

Mac uncapped the peroxide and carefully aimed. “Other than the obvious? Not really.”

“Exactly. They weren’t withdrawing.”

Aaah, very clever. It was an important detail only Crystal noticed, because of her own addiction to Nexifen.  The entire supply was supposedly in Derek’s possession after a thorough raid on IGP’s pharmacy. No routine dose meant the ghosts should have been worse off than they were, which should have made tonight’s operation an easier task than it was.

“You could have been straight with me,” he grumbled irritably.

“It was hard enough getting you out of there alive, Mac. I knew you’d argue.”

Damn straight he would have. The fact she was stabbed meant it hadn’t been the best move on her part. Just the thought of how close she’d come to dying made him more uncomfortable than he cared to admit. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed.”

“More important than drawing first blood,” she said in a listless tone, “is drawing the last. Rafferty taught us all not to flinch, but he targeted me most because I’m a woman. I got really good at not flinching.”

Mac knew the stories. He’d heard Derek’s accounts of Rafferty’s abuse toward women, and how he’d nearly raped Melanie. The nausea from tending Crystal’s bloody wound disappeared just like that. With deathly calm, he asked, “Did Rafferty hurt you?”

“All the time,” she answered as if it were a stupid question. “He never tried to fuck me, if that’s what you mean. He’s not into brunettes.”

Her blasé attitude seemed to come naturally, emphasizing the nature of the cold world she came from. But, he knew there were emotions in there somewhere that needed to come out.

A dry washcloth blotted the moisture from around the cut and Mac began peeling butterfly strips. “How many ghosts did you have to kill tonight?”

Her lashes fluttered open. “Four.”

Ah, there was the vulnerability. It was the sound of someone who’d killed for the first time. “It was either them or you, Crystal.”

She swallowed hard. “So you say
.”

But she was struggling with it nonetheless. “Sit up,” he commanded.

Her back straightened, closing the flaps of skin. Mac applied the first strip. “You upped information back at Lesico that had me convinced you were with them.”

“They needed a reason not to kill you,” she explained, grimacing when the third strip went on. “I gave them one.”

“It could explain Rafferty’s disappearance.”

“If he was freed by other ghosts, Derek would have known. He would have had to fight.” She shifted her head, peered back at him. “Believe me, the only ones I told are dead.”

Still, her actions proved she wasn’t
his
team player, either. Mac’s expression must have said as much because Crystal pursed her soft pink lips and faced front.

“I tried, Mac,” she said, her voice firm.
“But, it didn’t take long to realize Derek’s plan wasn’t going to work. I had to think fast. They all thought I’d died in the explosion last night and I needed a plausible excuse for my absence. When you came looking for me, I figured the truth would work in my favor.”

“Derek would have come after you
, if not me.”

“I know.”

“He won’t be as easy to convince when we get back to the house.”

Crystal reached out and turned the knob, cutting off the steady flow of water. The remnants dripped, preventing complete silence. “You believe me?” she asked softly.

Something in her tone touched a cord. Mac found himself staring at the clean contours of her back, wondering if her lightly freckled skin felt as silky as it looked. “I’ve been suckered before,” he murmured as he finished taping the bandage.

Her shoulders relaxed. “That’s what I like about you, Macon Reed. You’re a decent guy. I could tell right away.”

He reached down between her legs and pulled the plug, allowing the crimson water to drain. His face lingered close to hers while a single fingertip grazed her inner thigh. “You’re the reason I’m not in a dumpster, so I guess that warrants some kind of trust.”

Her muscles constricted beneath his touch and she edged closer,
her lips curving upward. “If you want the complete truth… I was tempted to stay. I thought about it.”

Mac swallowed hard. A mixture of emotions swirled with the primal urges that continued to plague his body. “Why didn’t you?”

“I’m still not entirely sure,” she said quietly. Her fingers hovered over the knife wound on his shoulder. “The IGP life is a strange one. Dangerous. Unpredictable. You follow orders you don’t always like, but it’s…
familiar
. You know?”

Her eyes were begging him to understand, which he did. More than she knew. It was a most confusing, most pivotal time in her life and he should say something profound. But, the longer they stared at each other, the thicker the air became and all he could do was nod.

When he tried to pull away, she captured his hand. “Help me wash my hair?”

She was naked, bold, but with a contrasting edge of vulnerability.

Mac was painfully aware that her effect on him was out there, plain to see beneath the flimsy sweatpants. So he allowed himself a slow, smoldering look at her bared curves, watched as her nipples grew dark and distended beneath the weight of his gaze.

The last of the water gurgled down
the drain.

While he drank her in, his needs ramped up an agonizing degree. H
e leaned over again and turned the knob. Water rushed from the faucet. “Get on your hands and knees,” he said thickly, their gazes still locked.

Her brow went up. She assumed the position in a slow, provocative way,
heavy breasts dangling above a flat, toned belly. “Get in with me.” A brief wiggle of her ass made it clear where she wanted him. “Wear me out so I can sleep.”

Blood roared in his ears as Mac
stood up and flexed his hands. He shouldn’t be doing this. It would mean letting his guard down completely… to a woman who could still be a traitor.

But, that just made him want her more, like a forbidden fruit k
ind of thing.

“It’s just sex, Mac,” she urged dryly. “We both need to disconnect for a while.”

She was absolutely right. It was just sex. No hearts and flowers or strings attached. That was how Crystal seemed to operate, so why should he feel guilt of any kind?

With a determined set to his mouth, Mac hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants and yanked them down.
Her eyes widened on his thick erection as it sprung free. Leaving the pants pooled on the linoleum, he stepped into the tub behind her and lowered himself to his knees.

His dick n
estled perfectly in the groove of her ass, and he bent over her, guided her head under the running faucet. A sensuous groan left her throat, reverberated through the air, and reached deep down to his bones.

When he eased off, she backed out and let him shampoo her hair with slow, dexterous fingertips. Soap went down the drain as he thoroughly rinsed,
taking care not to get her shoulder wet.

It was so different seeing her this way. Out of necessity, he’d always viewed her as one of the bad guys. This dangerous woman was capable of killing him easily, even if he saw it coming. 
Now she was bent over, soft and willing, giving him complete control over her body.

A surge of adrenaline caused his veins to rise.

He grabbed a washcloth from the stash beside them, lathered it with the bar of soap, and handed it to her. “Get all that makeup off your face,” he ordered. “I want to see who you really are.”

When she tried to sit up, he held her down. “No. You’ll get your shoulder wet.”

Besides, he liked her that way, with her butt in the air. The slim curves of her back stretched before him and if she moved, he’d blow it. Take her too soon.

“You’re killing me,” she groaned
as the washcloth passed over her face.

While
she performed her task, he cupped her breasts, something he’d wanted to do since she’d first presented them. They were every bit as soft and heavy as he knew they’d be, and the feel of her hardened nipples against his palms made him downright weak.

One hand skimmed down her stomach, over the
vee of curls between her legs and cupped her open sex. He dipped inside her folds, pulled out again and found the firm nub of her clit, stroked it with two slick fingers.

She writhed beneath him as she rinsed her face. When done, she loudly caught her breath. His touch had spiked her heart rate
, which he could feel in her chest. He reached over and put the plug in the drain, allowing the water to fill. Bubble bath went in next and the suds began to multiply. “Stay like that,” he commanded.

Then he stood up and exited the tub
, leaving a glistening trail in his wake.

“You’re leaving?” she gasped.

He opened the cabinet and dug way deep for a toiletry bag he kept in the back. When he found what he searched for, he also grabbed a few towels, turned around and retraced his steps.

When he lowered himself between her legs again, he carefully wrapped one of the towels around her hair. “You can sit up, now.”

As she did, he thoroughly dried it then wrapped the towel around her neck. “Turn around.”

She looked over her shoulder, but not at him. “I thought you were going to do me from behind,” she said with a wobbly smile.

“When I ‘do you’ I want to see who I’m with.”