Freaky by Nature Page 6

  He nodded.

  “He was killed when his fishing boat exploded. Apparently, someone planted a bomb on board.”

  “Do you think stealing the formula was the motive?”

  “I didn’t until now.”

  “Who knew about it?”

  “Everyone. The one thing Albert couldn’t keep a secret was his success. He spent more money on press releases and personal appearances than actual marketing. It was totally ridiculous.”

  Ridiculous? Obviously, Holly didn’t share Albert’s love of attention.

  “You didn’t appear with him?”

  “No. Not only did I refuse, I made absolutely sure I was too busy at the gym to participate.”

  “Did anyone know you were the beneficiary of the PermaSlim patent?”

  “Most people probably assumed, but even I didn’t know until Albert’s will was read.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Six months.”

  “You just started having trouble?”

  “Just what I mentioned earlier, and we contributed that to Cameron’s stalker.”

  He folded his lips to stifle a grin. Thanks to Cameron’s stalker, Brett was given the opportunity to meet Holly, up close, personal and half naked. On the down side, she’d been shot in the thigh in the process.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You still have a scar?”

  Holly laughed and threw her napkin on the table. “Okay Prince Charming, I see where this conversation is headed. Take me home.”

  They drove back to Holly’s house in a comfortable silence. Holly seemed to have let her guard down somewhat, though Brett could tell she still held back. He could probably find out what she hid, but he would rather she tell him. He needed her trust.

  Holly reached for the door handle as they stopped in her driveway.

  “Sit tight,” Brett said. “I’ll open the door and go inside with you.”

  Holly rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest. “That’s really not necessary, Brett.”

  He felt himself harden as he eyed her cleavage, plumped from her arms crossed under her breasts.

  “Humor me.” His patience now paper-thin, he got out and slammed the door. How in the hell could two mounds of flesh affect him this way? Brett reached between his legs and made an adjustment as he stormed around the truck.

  Without thinking, he opened the door, grasped her waist, and lifted her out of the truck. The moment she left the seat, she slid down his body like melted butter and the friction between them crackled the air.

  Obviously burnt from the same spark, Holly jumped away from him and headed for the front door. Almost thankful for her hasty retreat this time, Brett followed behind. When she reached to put the key in the lock, he nudged her to the side.

  He pried the key from her grasp and pushed her behind him. “Let me.” As soon as the lock snapped, he eased the door open and pulled his gun from his waistband. “I won’t leave you here until I’m convinced no one is in the house.”

  She sighed. “No one is in the house.”

  He turned to look at her over his shoulder and frowned. “You don’t know that, Holly.”

  She flinched as if his tone had poked her.

  “Just let me check,” he said, stepping inside.

  Brett felt Holly close behind him as he checked each room. In fact, the heat from her body scalded him. Desperate for relief, he attempted to distract himself by concentrating on his task. Finally satisfied no one was in the house, he went back to the front door.

  “Lock it behind me,” he reminded her.

  Their eyes met and locked as she nodded her silent assent. The slight elevation of her chin taunted him. His lips tingled with the urge to press his lips to hers. Just once, for a split second, to take the edge off. He cursed his stupidity. Once their lips met, he’d kiss her until they were both breathless, touch her until he was on the brink of madness and then take possession of her body. Over and over again. Only the doubt that filled her eyes stopped him.

  “Goodnight, Holly,” he said finally.

  “Goodnight,” she said softly, closing the door.

  Brett waited to leave the porch until he heard the locks echo in the silence, a stern reminder that she locked him out of her life.

  He scrubbed a hand down his jaw as he walked across the lawn to his truck. He had to find a way past those walls or he’d go crazy. No matter how many times she shunned him, he still persisted. His attraction to her, along with his faithful, willing, constantly-hard cock, seemed to grow. And he was a whole lot pissed off at himself for allowing her to affect him that way.

  He slung open his truck door, climbed inside, and then slammed it shut. In the meantime, maybe he should just get laid. One phone call would solve the problem. He mentally kicked himself in the ass. No one except Holly would cure the persistent ache in his bones. Or in his heart. Resolved to the idea of waiting her out, he started his truck and headed home. Alone. Again.

  ***

  Sweat trickled down the sides of his face and wet the tangled sheets beside him. “Oh, baby, my dick worships you.”

  The wild-eyed brunette whose normally professionally-styled hair now resembled a rat’s nest gave him a sultry smile before she lifted herself off his still-erect cock. “Of course it does.”

  He braced himself on his elbows and watched her wiggle back into her clothing while his cock twitched and saluted her. “Too bad you can’t stay.”

  She threw her head forward and then back again. Her hair fell into some sort of a tousled look and then she glanced at his groin. “No. We can’t risk it.” She reached for her purse in a nearby chair and slung it over one shoulder. “Besides, you haven’t delivered your part of the bargain.”

  Panic urged him off the bed and he stood in front of her, his dick bobbing between them. “Now, sweetheart, I’m still working on that. She’s a stubborn woman.”

  His breath caught in his throat as she reached between them and locked his balls in her fist. Flames flew from her narrowed eyes when she spoke. “Try harder, sweetheart, or the deal is off.”

  At his nod of agreement, she opened her fist and released him. Without another word, she turned on one heel and left the bedroom.

  He reached between his legs to massage his injured anatomy. Damn Holly London. What happened to make her so uncooperative? Everything had progressed smoothly until she changed. Until she accepted help.

  He hobbled back into the bedroom and eased himself back on the bed. He hadn’t anticipated her weakness and now he would have to take a different approach. He cursed his aching balls. No way would he let her ruin his plan. Somehow, some way, he’d make her pay for this.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  With his combat boots propped on the top of his desk, Brett rubbed his forehead before he glanced out of his office window into the morning sunshine. Sleep evaded him again last night, leaving him wide awake to think about Holly. He should have just taken her home with him. Sure, she would’ve thrown a royal bitch fit about it, but he owned at least one pair of handcuffs and he wasn’t afraid to use them. He needed help, quite possibly professional. As much as he wanted to deny it, the cold hard truth was that Holly controlled him, mind, body and soul. He shook his head in frustration. Where was he when that happened?

  Brett folded his hands behind his head and attempted to put things in perspective. Protection had been his business for a long time and he’d always managed to keep his mind on business. Until Holly. If he intended to keep her safe, he needed reinforcement. He palmed his cell phone and dialed, confident in his decision.

  Just about the time he was ready to hang up, a familiar smart-ass voice answered. “How the hell are ya, jungle boy?”

  Brett let the nickname slide, momentarily distracted by the sound of island music. “Where are you?”

  “On the beach in Hawaii.”

  Brett snickered at the thought of his best friend, Malcolm Windsor III, dressed in bright colored, knee-length swim trunks. Shadow, as he
was known to his SEAL buddies, was normally an expert at blending into the darkness. If he was trying to fit in with the locals, his current predicament could be prime bribe material.

  “I thought the Shadow only came out at night.”

  “Nah, thought I’d catch a couple waves.”

  Brett twisted his lips. More like a couple babes. Shadow never went long without female attention. “How long do you plan to be there?”

  “You know I don’t follow a schedule. What’s up?”

  “Sterling and I could use your help.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “We need extra security detail for Hawke’s concert.”

  Shadow didn’t hesitate. “I’m there.”

  Brett released a heavy sigh. “That’s not all.”

  “Is Claire okay?”

  Brett frowned. Only Shadow knew about the relationship between him and Claire. Did he know something Brett didn’t? “Yeah, why?”

  Shadow cleared his throat. “Just wondered. I’ve tried to call a couple times but I can’t catch her.”

  Brett let the tension leak from his muscles. “You know how she is. She’ll call when she’s ready.”

  Shadow chuckled. “I’ve said it a thousand times. Strange arrangement you two have.”

  “That’s the way she wants it. Besides, I’d know if something was wrong.”

  Shadow lowered his voice. “I just worry about her sometimes, ya know? She can’t be as strong as she wants us to believe.”

  Brett felt a surge of pride. No one else but Shadow understood Claire as well as he did. And, they would both be lost souls without her. “She’ll call.”

  Brett heard the deep beat of drums and something close to a war cry. “What the hell is going on there?”

  Shadow laughed. “Relax, just the natives. What else you got for me?”

  “We need some help on a case.” Brett summarized the recent action, not surprised when Shadow jumped at the opportunity to weave in and out of the darkness. Only, he didn’t quite expect Shadow’s next bit of advice.

  “Sleep with her, jungle boy.”

  “Say what?”

  “You heard me. Sleep with her. Get her out of your system, then you can concentrate on the case.”

  That would be way too easy. And since Shadow knew him too well, there was no since trying to bullshit himself out of it either. “Not this time.”

  A long pause crossed the line before Shadow responded. “No way.”

  “She’s different. I can’t explain it.”

  “What about Claire?”

  “I haven’t told her.”

  “Hell, she probably already knows. You better pull your head out of your ass and call her.”

  “I will, just not yet.” Brett then remembered the bond between Shadow and Claire. “And you better not say anything to her either.”

  “Your funeral, man.”

  Although Brett knew Shadow was right in his assumption about Claire’s reaction to another woman in his life, he wouldn’t admit it. “Are you coming or not?”

  “I’ll be there. Give me a couple days.”

  ***

  He breathed fire as he entered Holly’s house and stabbed numbers into the alarm keypad. Stupid airhead. Anyone in their right mind would know to try her birthday first. Lucky for him, though, he needed to get the formula and get out.

  He closed the door behind him, braided the fingers of his black, leather gloves, and popped his knuckles. Did Holly really believe the cocky surfer guy could help her? The man only wanted one thing from her, and it wasn’t a job. Then again, her error in judgment made finding the formula that much easier.

  He stomped into the study, yanked the top drawer from the desk and scattered papers all over the floor. Why was Holly even interested in the over-confident SEAL? She normally went for old guys. He snickered while he pawed through the pile. Ole Albert really was a genius. Even at sixty, he knew the key to keeping Holly was to make her happy at home, in bed. That’s why the PermaSlim was the only diet aid on the market laced with a hidden prize.

  He tossed page after page onto the floor. Where was it? She put it here, in this drawer. He witnessed it with his own eyes. He yanked out the next two drawers, rage consuming him when he continued to come up empty handed.

  Sweat coated his brow and his heart pounded as he paused to consider his next move. Maybe he had underestimated Holly. Albert had mentioned several times her body was her only asset, but that didn’t appear to be entirely true. Sure she was easy on the eyes, but since Albert’s death she proved him wrong. She seemed stronger, more independent, and a whole lot less trusting. Bile rose in his throat. He was losing control of her, and that was very unacceptable.

  His eyes darted around the room until they rested on a metal cabinet in the corner of the office. Did the ditz even know how to file? He snatched a paperclip from the top of the desk and straightened it. Cursing both Holly and himself, he poked it into the cabinet’s silver lock and jiggled it back and forth until he heard a snap in the silence. Once the drawer rolled open, he shoved his hands inside, thumbing through every paper. Nothing. He growled and slung the file folders over the side of the cabinet before he headed back to the living room.

  Where the hell did she hide it? He crammed his hands into his pocket and smirked when his fingers grazed the cool metal of his pocket knife. He stepped to the sofa, flicked open the blade, and punctured each cushion until the fabric resembled a plate of spaghetti noodles. Still, he didn’t find the bounty.

  Sure he was now certifiably insane, he turned over tables, leveled bookshelves and even emptied plants from their pots. He paused only when he assured himself he wouldn’t find anything. Hatred and panic had him by the balls; failure was not an option.

  Suddenly, a shrill beep sounded from the front door. Warning bells chimed in his head as he focused on the rectangular panel on the wall. His eyes widened and he pushed his anger to the side when he saw the red “armed” light flash in rapid succession. Someone had remotely reactivated the alarm.

  With a loud curse, he took several long steps across the room and then slipped out of the house into the lazy Arizona afternoon.

  ***

  Holly hummed softly to herself as she parked in her driveway, relieved that re-opening the gym had gone remarkably well. Thanks to Max’s expert state-of-the-art design, the new security system assured safety. Even when she’d accidentally hit the panic button this morning, the police responded before she could explain her error to the operator.

  She grabbed her gym bag and headed up the driveway, encouraged that maybe the pool incident had been a practical joke. Although no one found it funny, at least there wasn’t a repeat performance. And with the new security system, she fully intended to move sensual dance class back to the gym. When Jack’s patrons figured out the girls practiced there, Jack had no choice but to start happy hour a few hours earlier.

  Holly reached into her bag for her house key and wondered how she could convince Brett he could leave her alone again. Ever since he discovered the class, he insisted he attend every practice. She smiled. Not a bad thing, really. She enjoyed dancing for him while he fidgeted and pretended he was only there for security. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she secretly named him Pinocchio. No way could he conceal that lie.

  She placed her key against the lock and frowned when the added pressure popped open the door. Before she could analyze why the door was unlocked, an eerie, muddied red haze swirled from inside the house and pulsed around the door. Her heart rolled over and she sucked in several gasps of air as dark brown-yellow splotches mingled with the haze and then flashed in blinding strobes of light.

  Evil. Hate. Anger.

  Holly forced herself to focus and eased the door open wider to discover the chaos inside. In mere seconds, her head pounded and she fell limp against the doorframe, sliding down until she sat braced in the opening. She felt her brain summon a comforting shroud of sleep in an effort to dull the pain. Fighting to
stay conscious, she fumbled through the depths of her bag until she found her cell phone and pushed speed dial.

  “Brett,” she whispered into the phone, “someone’s been in my house.”

  Unable to wait for his response, she slumped to the cement and succumbed to the darkness.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  In what seemed like hours later, Holly awoke to the sound of her name.

  “Holly.”

  She forced her way through the fog in her brain and braced herself for the excruciating pain she’d invariably find on the other side. Except, once she pried her eyelids open, she felt only peace and serenity. What happened to the pain?

  Brett knelt beside her, one hand resting on her shoulder and the other stroking the side of her face. Max stood behind Brett, his expression hidden behind his trademark Aviator shades and his aura doused in his usual soft blue calm. Thank goodness someone could remain controlled in the face of danger.

  Brett grasped her chin and turned her gaze to his. “Are you hurt?”

  She blinked several times to clear the fuzziness from her eyes before she answered. “No.”

  Turquoise bands with a silver overlay wrapped the length of his body as he slid a hand under her back and helped her to sit. Relief overtook her when she recalled the meaning of his color. Protector.

  Still puzzled about her lack of pain, Holly stood and touched one hand to her left temple out of habit. She wasn’t surprised when she heard Brett’s muffled curse. “Were you attacked?”

  Holly returned her gaze to his. Heavy, thick gray stripes outlined the hard contours of his body and she fought herself from cowering from the force of his unmistakable anger. Her lips trembled and she forced a smile to reassure him. “No, another headache.”

  Afraid to say too much more, she stood silent and waited for him to respond. She gave his mind a mental push with hers, amazed when she managed to slip through undetected. He was deep in soldier mode, determined to find and eliminate the person responsible for her distress. Yet there was more. Much more. Something beneath the pain and rage. Rays of clear, bright, pure red spurted from his chest. Passion. Tenderness.