Deep Trouble: A MacKenzie Family Novella (The MacKenzie Family) Page 9

  Her clit throbbed, her knees falling wide. “Yes.”

  “Then keep your eyes wide open, sweetheart. Because I’m not kissing your mouth, and I’m not getting up until you come.”

  In the span of a few pounding heartbeats, Devon had pulled off her panties and settled his body between her thighs. Kylie’s legs shook with need as he hooked one arm beneath the curve of her ass, his fingers splaying wide over her belly as he lowered his mouth to her sex.

  She nearly came out of her skin from the warm, wet contact. “Oh…God.” Kylie tilted her hips, her clit aching for the press of his tongue, but Devon held steady.

  “Keep watching,” he said. His free hand dusted over her inner thigh, fingers playing momentarily in the crease dividing her leg and her body before sliding in to part the folds of her sex. Spreading her wide, Devon teased her in long strokes, learning her with his lips and tongue. Heat built deep at the center of her hips, although whether it was from the highly intimate way he was kissing her or the fact that she was watching his every move as he did it, Kylie didn’t know. Didn’t care. Didn’t feel anything that wasn’t Devon’s mouth, working her pussy with hot, hard flicks of his tongue.

  She tried to form words to tell him how good he felt, but they came out no more than pleasured moans. Her hands reached down, one digging into the arm Devon had locked over her belly, the other cradling his head as he pumped his tongue into her sex. His expression was the perfect combination of reverence and intensity, making Kylie’s heart beat faster and the heat in her body explode. He shifted, sucking her clit past his lips in a sweet, punishing draw, and she came with a cry. Turning her nails into the hard muscles of Devon’s arm, she levered off the bed, pulsing and praying and unraveling until she’d run out of breath.

  “Did you mean what you said?” Devon asked a minute later, his voice vibrating against her still-sensitive sex. He pulled back to look at her. His eyes flared, both bright and wicked, but Kylie nodded without a second thought.

  “I did.” She slid over the bedsheets, propping herself on her knees in front of him.

  He raised up to meet her, lowering his boxer briefs to free his rock-hard cock from the cotton. “You want me to fuck you any way I want.”

  Desire rekindled between her legs at the thought. “I trust you, Devon.” She circled his length with her fingers, pumping up and down. “I’m yours. All you have to do is take me.”

  Pausing only long enough to grab a condom and put it on, Devon gripped Kylie’s hips. His hard angles and tanned skin stood out against her creamy curves, but she loved the way his hands looked on her.

  And then suddenly, she couldn’t see them, because he’d swung her around on her bed so her back was pressed up against his chest.

  “I know watching turns you on,” he said, his breath ragged as it warmed her neck, her shoulder. “But it turns me on, too.”

  Kylie let out a soft gasp. “Then watch,” she said. Widening her knees, she bent forward, leaning until her palms spread open over the flat expanse of the headboard.

  Devon’s fingers tightened on her hips. He loosened one hand, using it to guide his cock to the slippery wetness at her entrance.

  But he didn’t press forward to fill her. “Gorgeous,” he murmured, and the slight brush of contact made her inner muscles clench. Finally, he sank into her inch by inch, filling her body until his hips were flush against her ass.

  “Kylie.” His voice filled her ears as he drew back, thrusting forward to stretch her again. Sensations ricocheted through Kylie’s body, then her brain, then her body again, each one turning her want into sheer, limitless need.

  She spread her legs farther, a dark thrill shooting through her blood as he moaned, pumping harder. “Yes. Don’t hold back, Devon.”

  “Christ, Kylie. You’re so damned tight.” He thrust again and again, hitting every sweet spot inside her. Their rhythm went from slow build to fast burn, making another climax flicker to life between her legs. She hinged all the way forward, taking him deeper, and when she reached between her legs to stroke her clit as he fucked her, their moans crashed together.

  “That’s it. Touch yourself. Feel everything.” Devon slowed his motions, and for a second, she nearly protested. But then Kylie looked over her shoulder, watching him change the tempo of how he fucked her to meet the movements of her greedy fingers, and oh God, it was the hottest thing she’d ever seen or felt. Friction combined with pressure, both spiraling faster and stronger and hotter until she tumbled over the edge of her climax.

  Devon tightened behind her, his cock buried to the hilt. “Ah. Ah, God.”

  Keeping him all the way inside, she bucked her hips against his, letting him feel the squeeze of her pussy as her orgasm ended and his began. His spine arched, his strong, hard body beginning to shake as he called her name again and again.

  And in that second, Kylie knew that she didn’t just trust Devon enough to give him her body.

  She trusted him enough to fall for him.

  Kylie dried her hair as best she could with the motel bath towel, ruffling her fingers through the tawny brown waves one last time before calling it as good as it got. She was starting to get used to the change—liked it better than the pink, actually. But one thing she’d never get used to was being on the run.

  Thank God the terrifying part was almost over.

  “Hey.” Devon appeared in the doorway to the bathroom that she’d left open while she’d showered, a protein bar in hand. “I know these are less than appealing, especially for someone who likes to cook, but you really should eat something.”

  “Thanks,” she said, brushing a quick kiss over his mouth before taking the yellow and red package from his hand. “Have you heard anything from Kellan?” Her brother’s flight was scheduled to land at any minute, and as soon as he was on the ground in Chicago, things would get crazy really fast.

  An image of Devon flashed through her mind, his hands on her body and his face caught up in the intensity of his release, and okay, some things might already be a little crazy.

  But God, he felt right.

  “No,” Devon said, bringing Kylie back to the reality of the here and now. “But as soon as he and Detective Moreno land and they reach out, this DEA guy and his unit can take you into protective custody.”

  Kylie’s pulse picked up in her veins, and she followed Devon back to the main room, sitting on the edge of the bed. “So, um, what happens after that?”

  He pulled on a fresh T-shirt, his hands staying busy as he spoke. “They’ll keep you in a safe house until they can pick Fagan up. The guy’s drug activity is legendary, and with the murder you witnessed, the chances he’ll see the light of day again are pretty much nil.”

  “Fagan’s never been caught before.” She fiddled with the protein bar wrapper, hating the fear pinging through her chest. “Do you think he’ll run?”

  “Probably,” Devon said, although his tone marked the word as a definite.

  “So I might be in protective custody for a while.”

  He paused. “I’d say there’s a pretty high likelihood of that, yes. But it’s to keep you safe.”

  “You’ll be there, then. Right?” she asked, and his chin snapped up, his eyes going wide.

  “Probably not. MacKenzie Security is good—the best, actually. But the DEA never farms out their protective custody cases. It’s too risky.”

  Kylie’s pulse began to pound beneath her tank top. “But I’m the witness. What about what I want? You’re a former Army Ranger, for God’s sake, and you work for the best private security company around. Look”—she tossed her protein bar to the bed, crossing the room to the spot where Devon stood—“I don’t want to take risks either. But if the DEA wants me safe, the best person…no, the only person to put me with is you.”

  Kylie measured the silence that followed in heartbeats and breaths, and finally Devon pulled her close.

  “Okay. Kellan and I will talk to Detective Moreno and her contact. See what we can work
out. Your brother is going to kick my ass for this.” He dropped his lips to her forehead, his kiss soft. “But I want you safe, Kylie. I want you.”

  Her response was cut off by the ring of Devon’s cell phone, and he unwound his arms to pull the thing from the pocket of his jeans. “Randolph.”

  Kylie’s stomach pitched, and ugh, she should’ve eaten that stupid protein bar. She listened carefully, although Devon’s end of the conversation was mostly a series of “affirmative”s and “negative”s. He capped the conversation with the address and room number they were currently standing in, though, so everything must’ve been going according to plan.

  “Well?” she asked the nanosecond Devon had lowered the phone.

  “We’re good to go. Kellan and Moreno are on their way from the airport. ETA fifteen minutes.” He slid his phone back into his pocket, breaking into a small smile. “Guess you should start thinking about that spaghetti dinner, huh?”

  She smiled back, feeling the warmth to her toes. “Only if it’s for two.”

  They spent a few minutes gathering the handful of things they’d brought with them, tidying the room to erase all signs that they’d been there. Devon slipped into the bathroom, and Kylie tightened the laces on her boots in the very definition of ready to go.

  She was headed for safety. Real safety. With Devon at her side.

  A tap sounded off on the door, sending her pulse through the stratosphere. But the sound was followed by a deep, quiet voice saying, “DEA,” and Kylie’s breath whooshed out in relief.

  “Oh thank God,” she murmured, unchaining the door to pull it open. “We thought you’d—”

  The rest of her sentence was swallowed by a rough hand over her mouth. Ripping pain exploded through her head, and the last thing Kylie saw before she slipped into blackness was Xavier Fagan’s cold, dead stare.

  Chapter Ten

  Devon took his backup weapon out from behind the toilet, giving the nine mil a quick clean-and-check before sticking it in his waistband at the small of his back. Normally, he didn’t go that route, preferring not to shoot his own ass off by accident, but even with the SIG in his side holster and the butterfly knife in his boot, he wasn’t about to be too careful.

  Kylie trusted him to keep her safe. And for the first time in four years, he trusted himself one hundred percent, too. Yeah, her being in protective custody was going to suck, but he knew Kellan. His buddy wouldn’t stop dogging the DEA until Fagan was behind bars and razor wire, and if the MacKenzies were able to pull a few strings, with any luck, Devon could keep eyes on Kylie until that happened.

  Guys like him weren’t supposed to have luck, but damn, today sure felt like his day.

  He opened the door, stepping into the motel room. “Okay, we’ve only got a few minutes, so—”

  His words crashed like a ten-car pileup at the sight of Xavier Fagan with a gun to Kylie’s head and his greasy hand clapped over her mouth.

  “Ah-ah-ah,” Fagan said, pressing his snub-nosed Glock harder against Kylie’s temple as Devon’s muscle memory jerked his hand in search of his gun. “I’ll be needing that weapon of yours on the bed. Whatever’s in your boot, too.”

  Devon cursed, his stomach going low and tight as he scanned Kylie for injuries. Blood trickled down from her hairline, but only enough to suggest a small wound. She was conscious, her blue eyes glassy and wide, and goddamn it, Devon was going to dismember Fagan for putting his hands on her.

  “Okay,” Devon said, his tactical options rolling through his skull at warp speed. Time. He needed to stall until Kellan arrived with the cavalry. “Just give me a minute.”

  “You have ten seconds, or I’m going to redecorate this room with what’s inside your girl’s pretty little head.”

  Kylie’s whimper kicked Devon into gear. He slipped out of his holster, tossing the SIG onto the bedsheets, heel-toeing his shit-kickers to the carpet in front of him.

  “Happy?” he asked, holding his hands at his side in concession.

  Fagan’s laugh curled around the air like a filthy dishrag. “Let’s see. I damn near had my nose broken, courtesy of this dirty whore”—his grip over Kylie’s body dug tighter at the mention of the blue-black bruise swelling beneath one eye—“I’ve wasted manpower and money chasing your asses all over the fucking map, and I had to cash in the mother of all favors in order to finally nail your location. Fucking DEA agents. They might be good, but they’re not goddamn cheap.”

  Realization cemented Devon’s breath to his lungs. “You bought off one of the agents on the field team?”

  “Circle gets the square,” Fagan said, his voice overloaded with sarcasm. “You think just because we’re in a big city, DEA agents can’t be bought? Shit. I’ve got news for you, Randolph. Everyone can be bought. Kinda like the clerk at the county office three towns over from Surrender. Told me all about that sister of yours. How many kids does she have with that husband of hers now? Three? No, wait—four. How could I forget that sweet doll Greta?”

  It took every last ounce of his self-restraint not to just say fuck it and try to murder Fagan with his bare hands. “You’ve made your point.”

  “Have I? Because I want to be sure you know exactly how this is going to shake out. I’ve got five, maybe six minutes before the DEA swarms this place. Which means I only have two to kill the both of you. Lover’s quarrel.” Fagan paused, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “So sad. But if either one of you fights me, or even so much as looks at me sideways, I’m going to make sure both your sister and that pain in the ass Kellan have very unfortunate accidents.”

  Kylie’s eyes rounded in terror, as if she were finally shaking off a fog. Her body tensed, her steps jerky as Fagan kicked at her feet to steer her farther into the center of the room.

  If you move…

  …I’ll kill you just as slowly…

  All of you will die today.

  No. No.

  Kylie trusted him. He trusted himself. All Devon needed was an opening.

  Which, of course, he didn’t have.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Fagan said, loosening his grip on Kylie just enough to stick her with a glittering black stare. “I’ll even do you first so we can get this over with quick. Remember what I said about making a fuss. You scream, and I’ll gut your brother like a pig.”

  He took his hand off Kylie’s mouth, and her eyes landed on Devon’s.

  “I trust you,” she whispered.

  The gun was out of his waistband on pure, primal instinct. He registered the press of cold steel, the squeeze of his muscles forming one fluid move, the stop-motion image of the crease between Fagan’s eyebrows.

  Devon shot him between the eyes in the span of a heartbeat.

  “Oh my God!” Kylie let out a sound somewhere between a scream and a sob. “Oh my God, oh my God. Devon!” She launched herself at him, her voice breaking with emotion and relief.

  He put a quick visual on Fagan even though he knew he’d landed a kill shot, and yeah, the guy wasn’t ever getting up. “Jesus, Kylie. Baby, let me look at you.” Devon loosened his grip on his nine mil, his hands coasting over her in fear and relief.

  “I’m okay,” she said, although she let him turn her so her line of sight didn’t include Fagan’s body. “I’m—”

  The door exploded inward on a burst of noise. “DEA! Don’t move!”

  Devon shielded Kylie, his gun back in hand within seconds. “My name is Devon Randolph, and this is your witness, Kylie Walker. Your man down is Xavier Fagan. The scene is secure.”

  Fortunately, nobody got chippy with him, because the next two people spilling through the door were a female detective and Kellan, both wearing Kevlar and both looking furious.

  “Kylie!” Kellan elbowed past the agent who had stopped to secure Fagan’s body, throwing his arms around his sister. “Shit, Ky, you’re bleeding. Moreno, you need to roll an ambo out here, like now.”

  “I’m fine, Kellan. I mean, Fagan rang my bell a little, but all t
hings considered, I think he got the worse end of the deal,” she said.

  Kellan chuffed out a laugh. “You must be okay if you’re cracking wise.”

  The female detective, Moreno according to the nameplate on her Kevlar, grabbed a towel from the bathroom, passing it to Kellan so he could administer first aid. “What the hell happened here? How did Fagan find you?”

  Kylie opened her mouth, but Devon cut her off before she could answer. “I’m not sure.” He cut a glance at the three DEA agents, all within earshot, and no way was he going to let whichever one of them was dirty get away with putting Kylie’s life at risk. “I must’ve been sloppy somewhere along the way.”

  “Bullshit,” Kellan said at the same time Kylie flinched, but Devon continued despite the punch of emotion in his gut.

  “Fagan muscled his way in, tried to grab Kylie. I took a lucky shot. That’s about all there is to it.”

  Moreno frowned. “Pretty careless for someone who should know better. Not only did you risk Kylie’s life, but now everyone working with Fagan will go deep underground. We’ll probably never catch most of them.”

  “Hey,” Kellan protested, but Devon put his hand on the guy’s shoulder. This was hard enough as it was.

  “You got Fagan. Now can we get out of here to give our statements? Because you might not like them, but I think you’re going to want to hear them.”

  Devon pushed back from the table in the interrogation room, his chair scraping across the linoleum as he propped his forearms over his thighs.

  “So you’re telling me Xavier Fagan paid off an agent in my unit in order to obtain the location of a witness so he could murder her in cold blood before we could take her into custody.” Special Agent Brett Collins, a.k.a. Detective Moreno’s contact and head of the DEA’s field office in Chicago, looked at Devon with an unreadable stare. “That’s a pretty hefty accusation.”

  “I’m aware,” Devon said, especially since he’d made the accusation a half a dozen times since arriving at the field office four hours ago. “But since my statement is the truth, I’m not going to be changing it any time soon. No matter how many different ways you ask me what went down.”