Trap found himself grinning for no reason. “Maybe the crazy Cajun is rubbing off on me. We’ve been friends for so long I guess I started thinking I’ve got Cajun in my blood. I don’t think a shy, retiring kind of woman would suit me, although I have to admit, I do insist on what I like in my bed. I like that she’s got skills, though, and that she’s dangerous. I wouldn’t take the chance otherwise. Not to mention, I find that dangerous side of her sexy.”
Wyatt shot him a grin right back. “Yeah. You’ve got Cajun in you, bro. Gator’s woman has this knife she put right to his throat when he stole her motorcycle. He thought that knife was the hottest thing and once she showed it to him, seriously, she was done for. Pepper had one as well, not to mention she’s got that bite of hers. Makes things interestin’.”
“I thought both of you were crazy until I met Cayenne,” Trap agreed. “She used her voice on me, and I knew I was up for the challenge. Admittedly, I fought it, but sometimes I woke up and smelled her scent in my room…”
“You what?” Wyatt, already on land, spun around and faced him. “And you didn’t tell us? We have holes in our security if she’s slippin’ through. We can’t risk that. Whitney has his own army of supersoldiers, Trap. We don’ know their abilities, but you can bet, since Whitney knows ours, when he decides to come after the girls, he’ll know what kind of enhanced soldier to send.”
Trap stepped out onto the spongy ground. He knew to follow in Wyatt’s footsteps to minimize the risk of discovery as well as to keep from falling through if the ground wasn’t completely firm. He paused and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t certain whether I dreamt about her or if it was real. Not until tonight.”
Wyatt’s eyebrow shot up. “I don’ believe a word you’re sayin’, and if you believe it, you’re foolin’ yourself. This woman has you actin’ out of character, and you and I both know that will get someone killed – her included. One of the boys will take her out if she comes sneakin’ around.”
Trap swore under his breath. Wyatt was right. He’d known. He hadn’t wanted her to stop coming. He liked that she needed to be near to him. Yeah, he’d been vulnerable with her coming in while he slept. He’d never slept when someone was near. Not ever. Not since his father murdered his entire family. When he worked out in his lab before he’d joined the GhostWalker unit, he had all kinds of hidden sensors scattered throughout his house and the laboratory to warn him if anyone came near. He knew it was insanity to allow her into his room, but still, he hadn’t stopped her.
“I’m moving to my new home tomorrow,” he informed Wyatt, not apologizing. “After tonight, she’s going to be so angry with me for interfering with her business that she won’t come calling again.”
“If she doesn’t decide to kill you.” Wyatt swung around and began walking, staying to a narrow path just behind the brush and trees.
Trap smirked. “She’ll probably consider it, but she won’t do it. She couldn’t kill me anymore than I could kill her.”
“You’re bettin’ your life, Trap,” Wyatt said, holding his hand up for silence. They were both speaking softly, but they needed to cease talking altogether. Sound carried at night, and they were closing in on the canal leading to the Comeaux properties.
Yeah. Trap knew he was betting his life, but he was fairly certain the end result would be worth it. He had calculated the odds, because that was what he did. He ran the data through his brain and knew if he couldn’t stop thinking about her – if he couldn’t harm her – she couldn’t stop thinking about him and she wouldn’t want him permanently removed from her no matter what she said. She was fighting the pull between them, the same as he was.
Cayenne was a beautiful woman. Other men were going to try to court her. Maybe most men would run for the hills when they discovered she was dangerous. She would never reveal her enhanced abilities, but she wouldn’t be able to help showing her character. They’d be jealous and possessive, the exact same as he felt and they wouldn’t be able to handle her. But they were in Cajun country. If Gator and Wyatt Fontenot were anything to go by, Cajun men liked strong women. They liked a little wild in them.
Trap wasn’t taking any chances that another man might slip in there and try to claim her. He didn’t want to kill anyone over her, and he was fairly certain it could happen. He studied their surroundings as they made their way in absolute quiet, muting their footfalls as they moved. He needed to take his mind off the thought that another man might touch her – or kiss her. Or in any way draw her interest.
Trap,
Wyatt hissed.
Trap glanced out into the water. Cypress trees grew along the bank, their knobby knees spread wide to make certain of survival. Gum trees grew higher on land. Brush and plants filled in between the trees, lending the island an unkempt appearance. This was the place of legends. The shimmer floating out over the water would add to that if anyone saw it. If Cayenne saw it, she would know he was close – and following her.
He took a deep breath. Where was the ice water running in his veins? His team referred to him as the iceman for a good reason. He was the one who went into the hottest spots and pulled out the soldiers torn and bleeding while the others covered him. He faced every dangerous situation without flinching. Over the years, he had forced himself to become the man he was – the man able to protect his family if his uncles – or anyone else – threatened.
Wyatt held up his closed fist, and Trap instantly went still. He opened his psychic senses to the night. Instantly he heard voices. Two men and a woman. His heart thudded in his chest and then settled into a normal rhythm as his training took over. They moved closer, and Wyatt went up a tree to cover him as he approached the trio.
Trap stayed as close to the tree line as possible, wanting the concealment so Cayenne couldn’t spot him. She looked very small next to the two Cajuns. She gestured toward her boat with a smile.
“Thanks. I can’t believe I ran right onto the bar. I would have gotten it off eventually but I probably would have been here most of the night.” Her voice was soft. Whisper soft. Compelling. Like silk. Her French accent was thick. Sexy.
She was throwing out a lure without even knowing it. Trap could tell she was giving them one more chance to walk away.
Pascal Comeaux stepped right up to her. “Maybe you should find a way to thank us.”
Trap clenched his teeth as Blaise Comeaux caged her in on the other side, much like they’d done at the bar.
She raised a hand and swept it over her hair in a long, sexy slide. The action called attention to her high, full breasts. He nearly groaned aloud.
Everything
she did was sexy. The way she moved. Her voice. That accent. Her body standing between the two large men. He let out his breath.
Pascal caught her around the waist and pulled her front to his easily. His brother moved in behind her, arms around her as well. She didn’t make a sound, but she pressed her head to Pascal, just for a moment. He yelped and stepped back, nearly letting her go, his face dark and red with sudden anger. One hand balled into a fist, the other stayed firmly around her back.
Cayenne didn’t look at him again. She leaned down and bit his brother’s forearm. His cry was higher. Longer. She just watched him impassively as he jumped away from her. Staggered. Pascal’s hand dragged her closer, and she turned back to him. His fist went back, fury gathering in his eyes.
Trap was there before him, catching his arm, holding back the punch. His piercing blue gaze met Cayenne’s. They stared at each another while Pascal’s body shuddered and slowly began to crumple. Trap let his arm go so that he fell in a heap very close to his brother. Both had their eyes wide open, but neither could move.
“What are you doing here?” Cayenne demanded, her hands on her hips.
“Saving your pretty little ass.”
Her chin went up. Her eyes narrowed. That only brought his attention to the beautiful green surrounded by all those thick, luxurious lashes. He really wanted her eyes open when he was moving inside of her.
She toed Pascal. “I didn’t need help.”
“I wasn’t saving your ass from
them
.” There was contempt in his voice.
Pascal’s eyes blinked. The fury should have set the island on fire.
Trap switched to telepathy, a much more intimate form of speech. Even if Pascal and his brother had their memories removed, he didn’t want even a residue of his conversation with Cayenne in their minds.
I was saving you from yourself. Go home. I’ll be there tomorrow. Make a list of whatever you need and I’ll get it for you. You want money or need it, you’re a GhostWalker. The money will be put into an account for you. We have a collective one, and each GhostWalker has received compensation. Whitney’s daughter sets up an account for each of us through a trust.
Something moved in her eyes. Something that made his heart jerk hard in his chest. Her chin lifted, but she followed his lead.
For the perfect ones, not the flawed ones. I’m supposed to be terminated, not compensated.
Damn it, Cayenne.
I make my own way.
By robbing? Do you get some kind of thrill from it? This is fucking bullshit and you know it. Go home. I’ll meet you there tomorrow.
It’s my home. You stay away.
She sounded stubborn. She
looked
stubborn.
I bought it. I renovated it. You know it belonged to Whitney, and he set up Braden there to finish his dirty work. He had all kinds of ways in and out built into the place. He had passageways in the walls. I took out the crematorium and the cells below and added in stairways to the lower level. The place is my home, and it can be your home as well, but no more of this bullshit, Cayenne. Sooner or later the cops will get involved, or worse, the military. If they send an investigator, you’re in trouble.
She toed Pascal.
They never remember.
There are already rumors. Why do you think I spent the last few days sitting in that fucking place counting peanut husks on the floor?
He snapped it at her, rather shocked that he was losing patience. He always stayed cool. She just got under his skin with the vulnerable expression she didn’t even know she wore.
She stepped right up to him and put both hands flat on his chest, staring up into his eyes. Her voice dropped low. Intimate. Sliding under his skin and traveling like a fireball, rushing through his bloodstream to settle in his groin.
There’s no need to worry about me,
cher
, I can take care of myself.
She lifted her face to his.
There was no denying her. Her mouth was pure heaven. He already had the taste of her there. His hands framed her face, and he bent and took possession of her mouth. She melted into him. Her mouth moved under his, her tongue sliding and then dancing along his, sending spirals of heat through his body. He wanted her with every breath he took.
He had to breathe for both of them, unable to stop kissing her. She tasted exotic and rare, like a flower he’d stumbled across. Storms. Moody. The taste of a wild wind, elusive and spinning out of control. He drew her closer, locking her to him, uncaring that the Comeaux brothers lay at his feet, unable to move, paralyzed by something she’d injected into them through a bite.
Her mouth was paradise and he could kiss her forever. No one had ever made him feel the way she did – the ferocious burn in his belly and the fire rolling through his veins with a vengeance. He knew she felt it too. The moment his mouth had come down on hers, she’d ignited as if he’d lit a match to a stick of dynamite.
His hand moved down her spine to the curve of her ass. He had to admit, she had the most beautiful body he’d ever seen. He half lifted her against his heavy erection.
Trap.
She murmured his name softly. Intimately. Into his mind.
You didn’t come alone, did you?
She would have to be the voice of reason. Even if Pascal and Blaise didn’t remember what had taken place, Wyatt was out there too. He couldn’t very well take her like some crazy animal in the middle of the swamp. She deserved so much more.
He came up for air and rubbed his face in the soft silk of her hair. He wasn’t certain that helped him gain control. Her hair felt sensual moving over his skin.
Baby, we need a bed and hours and hours to be alone.
I agree.
She nuzzled his neck. His throat. Blazed a trail of fire from his throat to his chest.
Who is with you?
Wyatt. And he isn’t happy about your visits. He’s afraid someone will shoot you accidentally, just the way I am. I’ll be moving in by tomorrow night. As much as I want to be with you, don’t make the mistake of coming to Wyatt’s house again without first meeting everyone.
You take a lot for granted, don’t you?
Her mouth felt so good against his bare skin. Her hands had unbuttoned his shirt, fingers sweeping over the muscles on his chest.
I don’t take you for granted, Cayenne. You’re a fucking miracle to me. No one has ever made me feel like this. I haven’t had a home or a family of my own, not in a very long while. I never wanted a woman for my own until I laid eyes on you.
He knew it was too much to give her – to admit. It made him vulnerable to her, but she needed to know he was playing this for keeps. He’d thought about it. Weighed it in his mind. Analyzed it from every angle. That was what he did, even when it came to his emotions – especially when it came to his emotions. She was worth it; he would never find another woman to suit his needs.
She hesitated, her ear against his heart. Her hands smoothed over his chest.
Don’t say things like that, Trap. You don’t know me. You don’t know what I am. I have no past. I have no future. You can’t tie yourself to me, not even in your mind.
I’m in your mind, baby. I see you. What’s inside of you. The enhanced you matches the enhanced me. Your mind can give mine the challenge I need. You’re going to be wild in bed. I need wild. I need you. You’re in my mind. You tell me you don’t think I suit you. That I don’t belong to you.