Taking Fire Read online

  He slipped two fingers inside her wet core and began pumping them in and out, faster and faster until she lost it.

  An explosion rocketed through her body. Fireworks went off deep within her, heating her through and causing hair to rise along her arms. A long keening wail came from somewhere, ringing in her ears. She’d been blinded and she couldn’t see or think, only feel the most amazing pleasure. Pleasure so great it was almost painful.

  An orgasm. She’d just had the first orgasm of her life.

  Trace continued to lick her and slide his fingers in and out of her. Every touch made her feel so sensitive she almost struggled to make him stop.

  “I can’t.” She moved her head back and forth, her words making no sense. The only thing that did came to her in the form of sweet torture. “I—oh, God.”

  “You can.” He murmured against her folds. “You will.”

  She lost it again, climaxing even harder than before. This time she knew where the cry came from—the cabin would fall down on them if she screamed any louder. He drew her orgasm out until she became nothing but a limp doll, totally worn out and exhausted.

  A triumphant expression crossed his face as he rose and watched her. He paused to do something…and he moved his cock to her core.

  She never had time to tense or to worry about his size. Hell, she didn’t care. She just wanted him.

  He took his time, easing inside, slipping his cock into her wet heat. She could swear his eyes nearly crossed as she stared up at him. He buried himself fully then began sliding in and out with easy thrusts. His cock made her full in amazing ways. She loved it, didn’t want to ever stop feeling the way she did right then, this full sensation and the thrills that made her come alive.

  His weight partially pinned her down. For one brief moment, a sense of panic of not being able to escape shot through her. The fright vanished, Trace smoothing it away when he whispered in her ear.

  “God, you’re special.” He teased her earlobe with his teeth as he kept his movements slow and steady. “There is no one like you.”

  She loved his body on hers. In his gaze she saw something that resonated with her…as if she belonged to him…and he belonged to her.

  Another orgasm started building inside her. She found it hard to catch her breath. She wrapped her arms around him, digging her nails into his back, holding on for dear life.

  His thrusts came faster and faster and her eyes widened as his cock stroked a part of her deep inside that made her crazy. She squirmed beneath him, her lips parted as her breaths came in harsh, short pants. He made her feel so good. Not like a body being used, but a person cared for in ways she’d never been.

  Then her mind spun away again, as if on some kind of carnival ride. Her body rocked beneath his. He kissed her hard then reared back, a loud guttural sound coming from his throat as he climaxed. He thrust several times more, making her cry with every pulse of his cock.

  He nearly collapsed on her but managed to hold most of his body weight off her. His slick flesh slid over her own sweaty skin. The dampness of her hair came close to matching the wetness of his. She barely noticed a small ache in her arm.

  For a long moment he stared down at her, as if he couldn’t put into words what had just happened between them. Instead of speaking, he lowered his head and took her mouth in a tender kiss, with a depth of caring that shook her entire body.

  He eased out of her and came to rest on his side. Her bones melted as if made from water.

  “There are no words.” She smiled, answering his silence. “But in doing my best, I will sum it up in three words—incredible. Amazing. Unbelievable.”

  “I’d say you’ve got it down pretty damn good.” He stroked the side of her face with his fingertips.

  She found the strength to roll onto her side and face him. She reached out and caressed his jaw, his stubble rough under her fingertips. The way the firelight played on his features, he looked dark and mysterious.

  Christie liked how open he seemed to be. He could be intense, like he’d been the night they’d taken Salvatore down, but she hadn’t met someone she found so easy to talk with. She liked him, really liked him. And realized she cared for him so intensely it almost stole her breath away.

  The thought she belonged to him came back to her. That feeling had come out of nowhere but it couldn’t be more true.

  She’d had something of a crush on him for so long, and now she’d been in the arms of the real thing. She couldn’t imagine a single place she’d rather be.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Salvatore ground his teeth while he avoided the gazes of the five other prisoners, and he shifted in his seat in the transport van. At the same time, he tried to keep from brushing his arm against Cowboy John’s shoulder.

  The chains connecting the cuffs at Salvatore’s wrists and ankles rattled as he tried to get more comfortable on the hard vinyl seats.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw the armed ICE agent watching them, weapon clearly visible. What a fucking stupid acronym—International Customs Enforcement. They could have come up with something that didn’t sound so benign. Not that he cared. He’d be a free man in a matter of days.

  The cuffs chafed and the orange jumpsuit made him itch. It had to be the laundry detergent they used. He’d always been sensitive to some kinds of detergent. Christie had known the right brand to use.

  He clenched his fists as he thought about his wife. She had caused all of this to happen and all fault lie with her. Fucking bitch.

  Five real criminals in the van with Salvatore had committed any manner of international crimes from murder to running drugs to stealing high-priced vehicles in the U.S. and spiriting them across the border into Mexico. Like Salvatore, the men were also facing trial in federal courts.

  Salvatore didn’t belong with these common murderers and thieves. He did highly specialized work. As a respected businessman associated with the Jimenez Cartel, he had helped make the group, including El Verdugo, wealthier in the creative ways he had laundered money. Arranging to have certain people murdered came with his responsibilities while doing business with the cartel.

  The hour or so drive from the Florence prison to Phoenix seemed to take forever. The van hit a pothole, rocking the vehicle’s occupants. Salvatore’s shoulder bumped John’s arm and the big man shoved Salvatore away with a hard jab to his ribs.

  Salvatore winced and his eyes watered from the pain. He’d have a bruise, but he wouldn’t let the monstrous man have the satisfaction of knowing that.

  He let his thoughts turn toward the last bit of news he’d had about Christie. According to Paco Esperanza, Christie had disappeared.

  However, using drones, as well as the cartel’s extensive network in Tucson and Phoenix, they were bound to find her. Especially with her uniqueness.

  Of the world population, only two percent were natural redheads, and the rarest combination of eye and hair color in the world was red hair with blue eyes. Her shade of red didn’t come from a bottle and her large eyes were an unforgettable blue.

  He had liked that about her—that she was almost as rare as the chocolate cosmos only found in Mexico and only bloomed at the end of the summer and in the evening. The flower had become extinct in the wild and a single clone of the flower now reproduced by propagation. If the flower could have been taken out of Mexico, he would have collected it, too.

  He liked to collect rare things, and Christie had been one of his precious belongings.

  A flash of fury burned through him and his body went hot. His gaze met the agent’s guarding them. The anger searing Salvatore must have shown clearly because the agent narrowed his eyes and shifted the weapon in his lap.

  Salvatore looked away. The hatred for all federal agents combined with the hatred for his wife. The woman he’d loved almost as much as he loved his money. He had been raised Catholic and taught to love God first, his wife second, and if they’d had children, he would have been told to place them third and his own par
ents fourth.

  God had done nothing for him. God had failed him. His parents had been murdered, and his wife had given him no children. His money and his wife had been his life. Now she had a piece of paper stating they were divorced, and she planned to testify against him.

  Fucking bitch.

  Everything had been stripped from him. Thank God he’d had the foresight to siphon money into offshore accounts the cartel didn’t know about. Only one of his cousins knew, and he would remain silent.

  Another pothole jarred Salvatore’s teeth and threw him harder against the monster next to him. Cowboy John let out a louder growl and rammed his elbow into Salvatore’s side so hard Salvatore nearly fell into the aisle. Pain made his eyes water and he managed to right himself in his seat.

  When he got out of this mess—and he would—he’d order the big bastard’s death. Cowboy John had done a good job of making Salvatore’s prison life even more miserable. As soon as, Salvatore would make sure the redneck pussy died.

  The Phoenix skyline grew closer. A cold chill chased away the heat of only moments ago.

  His mind started playing the ‘what if’ game. What if they didn’t find Christie before she could testify? Imprisonment could be for the rest of his life if Christie managed to avoid death.

  What if his men did eliminate her, but the prosecution convinced the jury of Salvatore’s guilt and put him in prison for a couple of decades for money laundering and other charges?

  He ground his teeth again. No, that would not happen. The evidence the Feds had found didn’t prove anything beyond reasonable doubt. He had no doubt at all.

  Christie’s testimony would never happen. She would die.

  Soon. Very soon.

  Despite the monster next to him, Salvatore found his mood lightening. The cartel had his back. El Verdugo would find some way to buy off a juror or two, maybe bribe the judge, and Christie wouldn’t be alive to testify.

  He had nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Christie hummed to herself while she finished washing and drying the breakfast dishes and putting them into the cabinets. The last few days with Trace had been amazing and she wished they didn’t have to end.

  Muted early morning sunlight made its way into the cabin. They had to leave shortly to meet with Stillwater and the other FBI agents.

  Thoughts of the reason why they were leaving this sanctuary on Mt. Lemmon caused her mood to falter. She did her best not to think about it. She needed to enjoy the moment a little longer.

  The precious days in the cabin had gone by much too quickly. She’d enjoyed every minute of the time she and Trace had shared. They’d talked, gone for walks, and curled up in front of the fire with hot chocolate topped with mini marshmallows.

  They’d made love more times than she could remember. She’d definitely lost track of the number of orgasms she’d had.

  The thoughts made her feel light and happier than she’d been in as long as she could remember.

  To prepare to leave the cabin for the next occupants, Trace had cleaned the ashes from the fireplace and dumped them outside, shuttered the windows, and checked the insulated water pipes, among other necessary duties.

  He always had Dallas stay with her and the dog seemed perfectly content to do so. She wondered if Trace left Dallas with her for additional protection or to keep her company. Maybe both?

  Trace had seemed preoccupied at times, his brow furrowed with worry lines. She’d asked him about it once, but he had smiled and told her not to worry. He had a few things on his mind, but nothing he couldn’t deal with once they returned to civilization—whatever that meant.

  Chill air swirled into the cabin and goosebumps prickled her skin. She stopped drying a bowl as she glanced over her shoulder. The subject of her thoughts, many times over, entered the cabin with a huge armload of firewood. He used his boot to close the door. She couldn’t help but smile as he looked at her. He returned her smile then headed to the fireplace.

  The firewood hit the wood floor with several thumps as he set it down. Dallas greeted Trace as he shrugged out of his jacket and set it aside.

  Trace started stacking logs beside the fireplace. She nearly sighed with pleasure as she watched his extraordinary backside and his triceps and biceps flexing with every movement he made. His back and shoulders were so powerful and his ass and thighs were perfect.

  He wore his shoulder holster over his T-shirt, ever ready in case trouble found them. She didn’t want to think about the kind of trouble he needed to protect her from.

  She turned back to finish drying the dishes and putting them away. She set the last plate in the cabinet and he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned back against him as he buried his face in the curve of her neck, his stubble rough against her skin. He kissed a slow path from her shoulder to her ear, tickling her while sending zinging sensations straight between her thighs.

  A happy little sigh bubbled inside her. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

  “Mmmmm…” He held her tighter to him. “Is it working?”

  She laughed and turned in his arms. He lowered his head and kissed her with a slow, easy passion. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss, loving the taste of him and the way he pulled at her lower lip with his teeth.

  He raised his head and smiled. “How does your arm feel?”

  “Much better.” She tested it and didn’t flinch at the very slight twinge. “I’m healing quickly.”

  “You certainly are.” He kissed her again before releasing her. “We’d better move out so Stillwater doesn’t have a stroke if we’re late.”

  “I take it you were able to get a clear signal.” Christie slid her palms over his biceps. “What did she have to say when you called?”

  “Don’t be late.” He trailed his fingers down her chest to her breasts. “I am so tempted to say to hell with that.”

  Need rose in her like water in a hot spring. “I would love to give you a reason to make us late.”

  “I would, but we’re on a timeline.” He gave her a quick kiss. “Too many people relying on us.”

  Christie stuck her lower lip out in a mock pout then became more serious. “What’s going to happen after we get with the FBI?”

  “Stillwater said she’d fill me in when we arrive.” Trace ran strands of Christie’s hair through his fingers. “One thing they’re not going to be happy with is I don’t intend to let you out of my sight.”

  “I have final say.” Christie raised her chin. “They can’t force me into hiding, so they can’t keep me from insisting on having you there.”

  “My RAC could.” Traced frowned. “But she won’t.”

  Christie tilted her head to the side. “What’s an RAC?”

  “Resident Agent in Charge.” Trace released the strands of Christie’s hair he’d been caressing. “Sofia Aguilar is one tough boss but a good woman. She gave me the green light.”

  “Guess we shouldn’t leave Agent Stillwater waiting.” Christie gave Trace a quick kiss. “Anything left to do before we go?”

  “Nope,” he said. “Everything is either locked, sealed up, put out, shut down, turned off, stowed away or loaded. All you need to do is grab your jacket and we can go.”

  “I’ve really enjoyed our time together.” She only wished it would last longer than it took for her to testify and return to Indiana.

  “I have, too.” He rested his hands on both her shoulders, still taking care not to squeeze her injured arm. “More than you can imagine.”

  “Believe me.” She pushed her finger against his chest. “I can imagine a lot.”

  He grinned and took her hand. “Come on. Let’s head on out of here.”

  After he helped her into her jacket, he tucked her hair beneath the floppy hat. He brushed his lips over hers then opened the cabin door.

  The cool and fresh air drifted over her skin, while watercolor pink and blue streaked the sky with the
rising sun. Something in the air made it almost impossible to believe anyone could be trying to kill her. It seemed so distant, so unreal now. Like she couldn’t be touched.

  She glanced at Trace as they walked toward the truck. With him at her side, she was safer than she’d ever been in her life.

  The farther down the mountain Trace drove, the tighter his intestines knotted. He didn’t remember ever feeling quite on edge like this. At times, he had felt off balance, especially if a perimeter alert had caused his phone to beep. Each time he’d been relieved to see on the monitors nothing more than a wild animal tripping the alarm. While on the mountain, he’d been on the watch, always, even though he’d had no doubts about her safety there.

  Now as they descended back into the open, things didn’t feel safe at all. The feeling only magnified the closer and closer they got to Tucson.

  Shadows and sunlight dappled the road. The patches of snow had mostly melted over the past few days. According to weather reports, a winter storm would be moving in later in the week.

  A storm of another kind waited on the horizon for some slip up, some screw up. He couldn’t let anything happen that would endanger Christie.

  When he’d checked in with Stillwater this morning, she’d said she had something to discuss with him regarding Christie but wouldn’t elaborate over the phone.

  He glanced at Christie. The floppy hat covering her vivid hair fell low on her forehead and over her ears. No woman could be so damned cute in the hat like Christie. Hell, she would be cute in anything.

  And nothing at all.

  His body hardened at the thought of her naked, beneath him. He sang a few bars of the silly show’s theme song in his head just to get his erection to die down.

  He glanced at Christie again to see her looking at him. “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “I guess I can’t say it enough.” He reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I’ve enjoyed the past few days with you.”