they’re visiting.”
Expensive if membership was a million bucks a pop. “How many founding members are there?”
“Ten now.”
“Now?”
“There were twelve of us originally-but we’ve lost two in the last couple years.”
She went still. “Lost? As in died?”
“You’re thinking this may be related?” Sam shook his head. “It’s not. Josh died in a plane crash about seven months ago, and Deidre died a couple years ago when some drunk ran a red light and T-boned her.” He twined his fingers with hers, lifting them to his lips. “The stalker isn’t a club member, Rosie. And even if they were, why stalk only me, why not Coop or one of the others?”
She huffed and untangled her fingers from his hold. “Even so, there could be a connection that you can’t see because you’re too close to the picture. I want to see the member files-I may be able to see something because I’m not familiar with them.” Other than the ones she watched on the evening news or considered giving her vote. Ay bendito! No wonder they were so rabid about security.
He shook his head. “I don’t want you at the club and Coop won’t let the files leave. Send Andy to look at them. Please.”
“I thought you said you trusted the members.”
He sighed. “I do. But…I don’t want you there.”
She wanted to ask why, but considering the way she’d reacted about his membership, about the club’s very existence, she could hardly fault him. He probably figured she’d freak out. But strangely, she found herself wanting an inside look-because that would allow her a peek into Sam Watson himself. A part she’d sensed he’d kept private, hidden, all along. And maybe she’d find out more about herself.
His cell phone chirruped and with a curse, he checked the caller ID and answered it. From his clipped speech and intense focus, it was important. Three minutes later he ended the call and cursed again.
“Colombia?”
“Yeah. Troy got word that the hostages have been moved again and we’ve lost track of them.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Look, don’t tell Scott, all right? He’s still blaming himself because he got out and they didn’t.”
They discussed the options for freeing the remaining hostages late into the night before she finally felt confident in returning to the original subject.
“I want to go to the club in the morning and see the files for myself, Sam.”
He groaned. “No, Rosie. That’s not gonna happen.”
“It’s a viable lead and as your team leader I have to check it out.”
His hold on her tightened and his voice came out as a growl, “Then send Andy and Scott or Kris or someone. I don’t want you there.”
“Sam…either you trust these people or you don’t. You can’t have it both ways. And either way, I’m going to the club and take a look at those files.”
“Has anyone ever told you, you’re like a hound dog on a hare’s trail?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “All right, I’ll take you over there in the morning myself and let you satisfy your curiosity about the place. But you’re taking Andy as your own personal bodyguard and you do not leave the office area, you hear me?”
“All right, I’ll take Andy with me, but will you please stop treating me like I’m breakable?”
How could she not realize that she wasn’t immortal? He’d already lost one woman he loved, he couldn’t bear to lose Rosie too.
He rested his forehead against the top of her head, pulling her against him. Somehow, when he wasn’t looking, their relationship had become about more than just sex, more than just kink. She’d wrapped herself about his heart and he found himself enjoying being bound.
Ever since he’d lost Jill, he’d been careful in his choice of dates. They had to be someone he couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life with, women who wanted him for his looks, his money, or simply for a good fuck. Women he could keep at a distance. Yet he’d totally ignored that rule with Rosie from the get-go.
Rosie was someone he could picture marrying, having kids with, taking home to his momma who would adore her almost as much as he…oh shit. As much as he loved her. He hadn’t felt that way about anyone in years. Eight years.
She looked up at him, her eyes dark and promising in the dim light, her lips slightly parted in an open invitation to kiss her. Unable to pull away, he accepted her invitation. Her mouth was soft, her breath warm on his cheek, her body so tiny compared to his. His little rose, so beautiful, so fragrant, who opened only for him.
He was already hard when he tossed the sheet off her and rolled her onto her back. Her hair draped wildly over the pillow, a thundercloud around her creamy skin. Dipping his head, he took one puckered nipple into his mouth, reveling in the breathless gasp as she arched beneath him. He stole a look at her-her eyes were closed, her fingers clutching the pillow on either side of her head. If he were a painter, he’d paint her just like this and entitle it “Ecstasy Encaptured”.
Releasing her breast, he laid a trail of kisses over her belly, then slid his hands beneath her hips and lifted her. She was already glistening as he dropped his head and tasted her again, reveled in her. Her hands clutched his head, holding him in place as she lifted higher, an attempt to control where and what his tongue touched. When she was swollen and gasping for breath, his cock harder than granite, his balls aching, he grabbed a condom he’d dropped on the night table and sheathed himself. Then he planted his arms on either side of her head, his cock nudging her entrance, and she smiled at him, her eyes luminous, filled with such tenderness it sucked his breath from him.
She wrapped her legs about his waist as he entered her. He’d intended to make love to her slowly, gently, but as soon as her heat enveloped him he couldn’t hold back and buried himself to the hilt. His hips pistoned, pounding into her until they were both gasping for air.
Her fingers wrapped around his biceps, her nails digging in as if she were holding onto him like a life preserver, half her body lifted off the mattress, clenching around him.
He dipped his head, caught her mouth with his, capturing her scream as she climaxed around him. The heat surrounding him, the pulses of her orgasm sent him over the edge.
Late in the night, as Rosie lay nestled against him, Sam smoothed her hair away from face, and wondered just how she’d managed to worm her way not only into his life, but into his heart.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Aside from the armed patrols with trained guard dogs patrolling the perimeter, there are security cameras installed on all access points and in all the public areas,” Sam told Rosie as they walked up to the double front doors, Andy trailing behind. The brass door handle shone against the crimson wood panels. “There are alarms at various points in each wing as well as in each room. And you saw the manned security gates on the way in that require everyone to surrender any weapons and cell phones before they are allowed on the grounds.”
She felt naked without her gun, but at least if they even took weapons from a founding member and Hauberk employees, everyone would be equally disarmed. Not that you needed a gun to kill. “Why take away people’s cell phones though?”
“Too many have cameras built in.” Ah, possible blackmail. Right.
One of the front doors opened without a sound and a man about two inches shorter than Sam but with muscles to match blocked their way-she would have felt comfortable using him as a brick wall to stop a mortar attack.
“Good morning, Mr. Watson.” He greeted Andy familiarly then turned to her and gave her a half-bow. “Miss Ramos, welcome to La Porte Rouge. Mrs. Harper is expecting you. Will you be showing Miss Ramos the way, Mr. Watson, or do you wish me to accompany her?”
“I’ll take her myself, Igor.”
She waited until the bouncer-she refused to think of him as a butler no matter what his tuxedo-was out of earshot before murmuring, “Is Igor his real name?”
