Before The Witches Part 6

"That man." Junie's blond eyebrows knotted. "You said he wasn't handsome."

"Did I?"

"Yes." She frowned. "You lied."

Katya smothered a chuckle. "You think so?"

"Yes." Junie's hand lowered. A single finger hooked into Katya's hand. "Do you think he would take me?"

The question, asked in all sincerity, slammed a hole into Katya's heart. Fury pounded behind her eyes; fury that a child should be so conditioned to think that way, and sorrow that she didn't know any other way to think.

Katya closed her eyes, turning her hand palm up to lace her hand through Junie's. "I think if you ask him, he will be your friend."

A light tap on the door had her standing before she knew she meant to.

"Excuse me." A handsome man in a police uniform leaned through the doorway, one hand on the doork.n.o.b. His blue eyes flickered; sympathy, Katya thought. Awareness. He noticed the way Katya stood in front of Junie, and by the twist in his mouth, it bothered him.

Junie rose to her knees, her hand tight in Katya's, and peeked around her.

"My name is Officer Jake Leigh," he offered. "I'm going to make sure you ladies have everything you need. Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

Katya hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. "Hungry, sweetheart?" she asked in Russian.

Junie nodded.

Officer Leigh tilted his head. "Is she all right to come with me? I can escort her to the cafeteria."

And Katya desperately wanted a nap.

"This police man will take you to food," she translated, searching Junie's expression for any sign of fear. "His name is Jake Leigh. Do you want to go with him?"

Junie's gaze flicked to the officer.

He sank to his haunches, draping his elbows on his thighs and somehow making himself look less threatening. "Less big. How do you say h.e.l.lo?" he asked.

"Privet," Katya offered. "Her name is Junie."

Junie ducked her head. Jake matched the gesture, tilting his face up to smile at her. "Privet, Junie. Will you come with me? I promise to keep you safe."

He offered one hand, his expression at ease. Infinitely patient.

The door widened behind him, and Nigel stepped in, a folder in hand. He glanced at the officer crouched on the floor and then at the girl kneeling on the couch. Raising his eyebrows, he sidled around the officer to set his folder quietly on the desk.

He said nothing.

Katya looked at Junie, watched uncertainty meld into something cautiously optimistic. "Go on," she murmured in Russian. "I'll be right here."

Junie unfolded from the couch, framing something cautious and impossibly hopeful in Russian.

Jake c.o.c.ked his head at Katya.

"She wants pancakes," Nigel translated, his voice quiet and smoky.

Jake's smile widened. "Da," he said in his flat American accent. "That's yes, right?"

"Da," Katya confirmed.

Junie cautiously slipped her hand into his.

Katya folded her arms over her chest. "Do you have children, Officer Leigh?"

His eyes warmed. "One," he said. "And one on the way."

"All right," Nigel said irritably. "Get out."

Jake shot him a look filled with laughter, shaking his head, and guided the young teenager out the door. It closed behind them, leaving Katya alone with the man who'd kissed her blind the first time she'd seen him.

And rescued her friends the next.

She blew out a slow, shaking breath, her arms tightening around her ribs.

Nigel flicked on a lamp, adding a little more light to the gray daylight peeking through the blinds. "There was an earthquake in California, too. They say we're getting a series of aftershocks from both ends."

"Really," she whispered.

"It beats the end-of-days scenario every ragtag nutcase with a sign is preaching," he said, his smile crooked.

It faded when she didn't answer. He half outstretched a hand, paused as if unsure whether to approach her or to let her be. "Katya." She flinched. "Are you all right?"

And there it was. That kindness.

The crack.

Her knees folded. Katya hit the floor, hunched over herself, and let her chin sink to her chest. Her breath came in shuddering gasps as the relief, the shock, finally set in. With a vengeance.

He swore, crossing the office so quickly that he was suddenly kneeling beside her, an arm around her shoulders. One under her knees. "Hey, it's okay," he soothed. "I've got you."

He lifted her with a smooth flex of power, transferred her to the sofa and hesitated as her fingers dug into his s.h.i.+rt. "Please," she whispered. Tears filled her eyes; d.a.m.n it, she wasn't supposed to cry.

It was over. Junie was safe. Elena and the others were going to be free.

Why was she crying?

Nigel looked down at her shaking hands, his features conflicted. Then, as if afraid he might spook her farther, he sank into the sofa cus.h.i.+ons beside her. Cautiously lifted her, settling her sideways on his lap as if she were just a child to be comforted.

His body heat seeped into her legs. Her back.

Her cheek as she tucked her face against his shoulder and shook violently.

He stroked her hair with a callused hand. "It's okay," he murmured. His breath stirred against her temple, smelling like mint toothpaste and coffee. "It's going to be okay. You're safe here."

"I kn-know," she said, so tightly her teeth clattered together. "I know. It's just . . . it's . . . d.a.m.n it."

"Shhh." His arms tightened around her. "There's no shame in letting go."

She almost laughed. It came out on a dry sob.

"I'm going to do everything I can to protect you both," Nigel said. And in that gentleness, she heard a fierce promise. A tenacious aggression that did more to set her mind at ease than any empty rea.s.surances.

Truth, her mind whispered.

"You're witnesses to Mikoyan's operation," he continued, smoothing her hair back from her face as she looked up. His eyes gleamed, inches from her own, and his features were tense, but his touch gentle as he tucked her hair behind her ear. "We'll get your stories, and we'll have more to nail the b.a.s.t.a.r.d with when I bring it all down on his head."

She stared into his eyes. Realized she had already started shaking her head when they narrowed.

"No?"

"I just . . . I can't put Junie through that," she said, closing her eyes. "She's just a baby."

"Condition of anonymity," he replied. "As long as the facts are good, they'll never have to know who she is. We'll make them work." He caught her jaw with one hand, long fingers framing her cheeks, and forced her to look at him. To meet his gaze again; see the determination. Drown in it. "You're the bravest lady I know. You can do this."

Brave? She wasn't brave.

She was crazy.

A tear slid from her lashes as she clenched her fists in his collar and pulled his mouth to hers.

Surprise stiffened his body. Maybe it was a sense of propriety, of duty that kept him from kissing her back. Maybe he was thinking that he was a police detective, sworn to protect, and she was the wounded victim of a crime. She didn't know. All she knew was that she wanted to taste Nigel Ferris's kiss again.

And the hoa.r.s.e sound deep in his throat told her that he remembered hers.

Chapter Five.

His lips softened. The arms pus.h.i.+ng her way suddenly pulled her closer to him, crus.h.i.+ng her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his chest. Pulled her hip awkwardly against his groin, hard beneath his jeans.

He groaned raggedly, the wordless confession welling from deep, deep inside his chest as he caught her face between his hands. As he had before, his thumbs dug in by her mouth. Tilted her face up, forced her lips to open, to surrender to the hot, wet, almost angry insistence of a kiss that rocked her down to her shaking soul.

Her eyes clenched shut, blocking out the small office. The green sofa, the dreary Seattle light. The muted hum of the police station faded beneath the slam of her heartbeat; or was it his? There was only the rasp of his tongue as it slipped into her mouth, teasing hers. Daring hers to meet his fervor, match it.

She inhaled through her nose, a shaky breath flavored with his scent. Sawdust and pine and coffee and, Jesus, sheer l.u.s.t. She s.h.i.+fted, struggling to keep her lips fused to his. Breathed his breath and tilted her head, rising to her knees.

His hands tightened around her face, and he wrenched his lips away on a low, hoa.r.s.e word. It sounded like f.u.c.k.

Smoothly, she hiked a leg over his thighs. s.h.i.+fted her weight so that her knees framed his hips. His eyes blazed at her, glittered with barely contained need. Raw l.u.s.t.

"Katya, we can't." His breath hissed through his teeth as she grabbed fistfuls of his s.h.i.+rt at each shoulder and settled herself hard, firmly against his covered erection.

The thick ridge fit exactly where her body craved it. She gasped, bit her lower lip.

The small pain of the cut there wasn't nearly enough to quell her need for his touch. His lips on hers, his fingers on her skin. His c.o.c.k inside her. It was almost a compulsion.

"Will you make me beg?" she whispered.

He groaned tightly, his hands coming to clasp her waist.

"Please." She tilted her hips. The cleft of her body pulsed, wetter than she ever would have expected from something like this. From a man like him.

From herself.

"Please," she said again. "If it's . . . if it's me you're worried about, I'm healthy. We . . . they check us. Healthy is much more money-"

"No," he rasped, cutting her off with an angry sound. His fingers tightened at her hips. Held her when she would have moved again. "Don't beg. Don't ever beg . . . another man . . ." And then his fingers found the hem of her s.h.i.+rt. Hiked it above her b.r.e.a.s.t.s with almost savage need. "No other men," he growled, and lowered his head to the cleavage lifted into place by her pink bra. His tongue tasted the upper swell of one breast and she gasped.

No other men.

It smacked of truth.

Her head fell back as his fingers slid beneath the soft cups cradling her flesh. He pulled the bra down, freeing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to his gaze. He stared at her, at her dusky nipples tightened to hard little buds of wanting.

"Beautiful."

She'd heard it before.

But as he lowered his mouth to one aching nipple, she nearly shot out of her skin with raw l.u.s.t. That was new.

He lapped at her skin, at her nipple, his other hand palming her other breast with rough, confident strength. She arched into him, crying out softly, just aware of their surroundings enough that she m.u.f.fled what she could. "Please," she panted, "oh, please."

He laughed, but it was as if it was ripped from him. Nigel pulled her s.h.i.+rt over her head, unclasped her bra until she was topless. The chilly air ghosted over her skin, causing gooseflesh to ripple down her arms. Over her chest.

He seized her hands, held them away from her body. His eyes devoured every inch of her, from her softly rounded stomach to the heavy swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. To her eyes. Katya dissolved into a pool of molten sensation as she read awe in his dark eyes.

Admiration.

She made a small sound, wrenched her hands away to tunnel them under his s.h.i.+rt. She wasted no time in tugging the cotton over his head, revealing the tanned, muscled skin of a man at the peak of physical perfection. Her mouth went dry at the ridged expanse of his abs, at the dark hair on his chest and the way his own flat nipples tightened beneath her finger.

His breath caught. "This is such a bad idea," he said, half a laugh. Half a groan.

"Maybe." She met his eyes briefly. Her lips curved up. "Maybe it's exactly the right idea." She bent, licked a path up the center of his chest. Found the thin skin where his shoulder met his neck and bit. Hard.

He almost shot off the couch. "Oh, f.u.c.k," he growled, and entwined his fingers in her hair. Jerking her back, he fit his mouth to hers, slanted his lips over hers until she groaned from the friction between them. His lips. His c.o.c.k, still locked away behind the thick layers of denim.