Killer Bunny Hill Read online

  One hand poised to move in front, he made contact with the stitches. His eyes snapped up to her face. She had not changed her expression with the exception of her lower lip now held between her teeth. In one swift motion, Max got to his feet, swooping Sam up in his arms as he did.

  “What?” she gasped, her lids popping open in surprise.

  “No sense being uncomfortable.”

  Then he laid her on the slatted sleigh bed, her feet dangling over the side, the rest of her pillowed on the comforter in hues of maroon and green. Gazing down at her, he realized he had been right. She looked great in maroon, but the green made her eyes shimmer more brightly.

  Sam reached for him, smiling seductively, and he bent, kissing the palm of a hand, pressing it against his cheek.

  “If I kiss you again it’ll all be over for me.”

  When she purred and grinned, a wicked twinkle of green flashed in her eyes. Max set the hand on her thigh as he once again lowered himself. He parted her lips, and Sam moaned as he teased her with a cool breeze from his breath. The instant he touched her most sensitive flesh Sam gasped, and her legs opened wider in invitation.

  He tasted her, caressed her, felt the tension tighten in her legs, and heard her breath jump. When he peered up, he watched her long fingers clutch at the bedspread. She was close. He sipped at her wetness, tasting her sweetness, and coaxed her closer to the edge. His tongue flicked lightly against the aroused little nub, faster, and faster.

  As she climaxed, Sam grabbed his hair, tugged at him, but Max persisted in shooting the sparks of pleasure through her until she splintered, and screamed.

  “Max,” she breathed. “Max. Please.”

  “Yes?”

  Sam heard the teasing in his response, but she didn’t want to be teased. She wanted Max! All of him. She sat bolt upright, pulled his face into her hands and down to hers, and kissed him, thoroughly, tasting herself on his lips. Astonished, she wanted him even more.

  She reached for his sweater, tugged it over his head without a thought. Then she remembered his injured arm, tugged it to her lips and soothed it with a kiss. When she looked up, she saw Max watching her, desire heated his whiskey eyes turning them flaming amber. Standing, she moved so his knees pressed against the bed. With swift movements, she undid his buckle, unzipped his jeans, and unleashed his arousal.

  Wrapping her fingers around him, Max moaned as she stroked him, felt the silky strength. Then she pushed him back so he landed on the soft bed, rid him of the clothing that gathered around his ankles, and straddled him.

  With her forehead pressed against his, Sam whispered a question. “What do you intend to do with that weapon?”

  Max laughed, and before he stopped, he shifted. In the blink of an eye, she was on her back, Max on his knees positioned between her thighs. He was so handsome, and strong, and overwhelming, she thought, as his lips met hers. As she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss, he entered her with one smooth thrust.

  “Ohhh,” she murmured.

  As he thrust in and out, she moved in rhythm with him, feeling iron against warm satin. Lifting her legs, she bound Max to her, her heels urging him deeper.

  “Oh, Sam.”

  Heels in his buttocks, she clamped her legs around him and switched positions again. Now she was astride him.

  “Max, go with me,” she said as she bent to kiss a flat nipple, never losing their rhythm. And she felt him push deeper.

  When she sat up again, Max moved his hands to her breasts, kneaded them. Delightful vibrations shivered through her. Their strokes became faster, more hurried, her hearing buzzed. Then he touched her core. Eyes that had been shut in sublime ecstasy, sprung open, the new sensation bombarded her.

  “Sam, look at me. I want to see your face this time.”

  She did. Sam gazed down into pools of liquid gold, and plunged over the edge and into their depths, taking Max with her.

  * * * *

  When he landed, Sam was breathing hard against his chest as it rose and fell in rapid succession. As she tried to catch her breath, he trailed fingers up and down her spine in a soothing motion.

  “Mmm,” she purred.

  Max smiled into her hair. He felt the same way. Sam started to move off him, and he tightened his arms around her.

  “I’m just going to give you room to breathe.”

  He let her slide off and to his side, eyeing her with one lid closed, and catching a glimpse of naked flesh. With renewed interest, Max shifted up on an elbow, indulged himself with the feel of her exposed nipple under his finger. He watched it grow taut as she sucked in a breath.

  “I told you I wasn’t letting you out of my sight,” he muttered just before he caressed the pink bud with his tongue, watching her beneath lowered lids.

  She curved up to meet his lips. “I said I wasn’t going anywhere.”

  With an arched brow, he searched her face. “Hmm.” Grasping her wrist in his hand, he reached for the bedside table.

  * * * *

  “What the…” she gasped in surprise, gaping at him, the handcuff he slapped on her wrist, and back at Max.

  “What?” he asked, grinning like the Devil as he attached the other cuff to his own wrist.

  “Max, you can’t…”

  “Mmm.” He murmured, tracing her lower lip with the tip of his tongue.

  The touch was so minimal yet so seductive. Every nerve seemed to be in her lips and when his amazing tongue met the tip of hers, Sam forgot about everything except how Max’s kisses made her go up in flames.

  When the flames of their desire were finally quenched, Sam slept.

  * * * *

  Sam awoke with the sudden need to pee. She tried to leave the bed without disturbing Max, but her arm wouldn’t move. She tugged, but it didn’t budge. Damn, she had to pee. So much for her attempt to be considerate, she yanked. The clank and Max’s moan had her remembering. Handcuffs. The rat-bastard had cuffed her to him.

  During their second round of heart-stopping, mind-numbing, knock-your-socks-off sex, the handcuffs added a little extra spice, a little more fun. Now, they were a pain in the ass.

  “Max,” she whispered loudly. “Max, wake your sorry butt up.”

  He rolled over, laying a strong arm across her, and spoke without looking at her. “You didn’t think my butt was sorry a few hours ago.” He opened one whiskey eye. “As a matter of fact, I believe you said it was ‘an ass worth biting’.” Both eyes closed again, and he smiled.

  Ugh! Her and her big mouth, she thought, trying to control the giggle that rose up.

  “Take the damn cuffs off.”

  “In your dreams,” he muttered.

  “Well, it’s going to be a wet dream if you don’t. I’ve got to pee,” she told him, wiggling around.

  Both eyelids popped open. Max was fully awake now. He retrieved the key from the same place he had gotten the handcuffs, unlocked her bracelet, and she ran to the bathroom. Naked.

  Sitting on the cold seat, Sam considered Max. He was handsome in a rugged way, wickedly sexy, and mysterious. She really didn’t know anything about him. She knew he had a brother who was missing, but not if he had any other siblings or relatives. She was in his house, supposedly. She thought the place on the mountain was his. He knew how to track a person, and he knew how to evade someone.

  Then there were the handcuffs. Why did he have them? Okay, so the obvious reason she had experienced. The memory made her grin. But they weren’t fur or velvet lined. She didn’t suppose they had to be, but she’d always assumed that’s what was used in sex games. Then another idea hit her.

  “Are you a cop?” Sam asked, standing in the open doorway.

  One dark brow rose. “No.”

  Max crawled out of bed, crossed to her, and gave her a peck on the nose. “Funny thought for a bathroom break. And if I was, would you have something to hide or fear?”

  Sam could barely concentrate. Max stood in front of her, naked as the day he was born, and completely comfortable. W
hy wouldn’t he be? The man was hotter than a firecracker on the Fourth of July.

  She smiled up at him, ran her hand up his chest dusted with chestnut hair. His chin had a day’s growth of the same color hair, and she recalled the tickling sensation she felt when he rubbed the scruff on her inner thigh.

  Okay, it had been a while, a long while since she had good sex, any sex. But damn, she wanted Max again.

  He grinned at her, his eyes lighting. He knew what she was thinking. He lifted her in his powerful arms, her heart skipped an excited beat, and she thought, Hallelujah.

  Then he took her back into the bathroom. “Shower and sustenance,” he told her, depositing her in the tub.

  Her heart dropped.

  Twisting the knobs, Max turned the water on, and then climbed in with her. “We’ll conserve water.”

  Her heart took off again, double-time.

  ELEVEN

  Sexed up, cleaned up, and standing in his own kitchen, Max stared without seeing out the window. He felt relaxed yet edgy. For the first time since Lucy’s death, he felt something for a woman. He knew he shouldn’t. It was dangerous. Caring only led to getting hurt. Beyond his brother, Max did not want to care for anyone, especially a woman. A woman made him vulnerable.

  Even if the woman in question was independent, intelligent, injured or not, had better survival instincts than ten men, she still made him susceptible. Right now, being defenseless was not an option. He could not afford to think about anything or anyone other than his brother, but it was impossible not to.

  Sam brought out every natural instinct he had. When he wasn’t saving her, or protecting her, he wanted her. What kicked him in the gut and made him sit up and take notice was the fact that Sam was somehow smack dab in the middle of his brother’s disappearance, yet he didn’t get the impression she was on the opposite side. In fact, his instincts told him Sam was on no side. She was the odd woman out in this treacherous game.

  Despite that, he believed she also knew something. Whether she consciously withheld the information, or she had it locked up inside whatever memory had not come back, Max knew Sam was the key. And it was his job to find out how.

  He sensed her, the woman who had become his unwitting pawn and partner. Without turning, he knew she stood on the threshold to the kitchen. Her nervousness practically sang through the air. The question was, was she wringing her hands because they’d had sex, really hot sex, repeatedly, or because of the predicament she was in?

  “We need to talk.”

  “Yes,” she answered.

  When Max turned, he noticed her chin held high, her back straight, and she looked prepared to take a blow. The idea made the corner of his mouth lift. She was tough. How many women could go through what she has gone through and not fall apart, but stand in front of a man twice her size, with more street experience, and be ready to take another hit? Not many.

  Taking a seat across from her, he slid a cup of coffee in front of Sam, and got right to the point. “Somehow you’re mixed up in whatever happened to my brother.”

  Sam started to protest, but he held up a hand, palm out, cutting her off.

  “Let me finish. You are a part of it. Whether a knowing participant or not, you’re in. Even if your memory doesn’t allow you to remember, the people chasing you, and the phone calls I received all confirm your involvement.”

  As he took a drink of his coffee, Max peered over the rim of his mug, waiting for her to respond. She didn’t.

  “What we, that would be you and I, need to do is figure out how you fit.”

  “How many phone calls?”

  “Two.” She surprised him. He had expected her to put up more denials. Instead, she wanted to learn more, and was willing to listen.

  “Male or female?”

  “Difficult to say.”

  One of Sam’s cinnamon-colored eyebrows lifted toward her hairline. She thought it humorous that he couldn’t distinguish a man’s voice from a woman’s.

  “The first one was a woman’s. It was a whispered voice, made me think female. The second was less distinct, like someone deliberately disguising his or her voice. My impression was male.”

  Sam nodded. “What did the lady caller say?”

  “She told me Kevin was alive and that I needed to find Sam Spenser.”

  “And the second call?”

  “That one was the one that had me traipsing around a construction site waiting for a guy who liked to tell riddles. It was a waste of time, and a distraction to get me out of the house so they could go in after you.”

  “Riddle? You said riddle?”

  “Hm? Oh, yeah.” Max drained the last of his coffee. “He said, ‘Riddle me this, who was the singer in the movie The Fabulous Baker Boys?’”

  “Susie Diamond.”

  Her answer was so quick it startled him. When he looked at Sam, the expression on her face was pensive. He saw her mind churning. She rose, took his mug and hers over to the counter, and poured two more cups. As he watched her walk back, he witnessed when everything clicked into place. Right before the mugs crashed to the floor.

  * * * *

  “Diamonds,” she mumbled to herself. She looked up from the spilled liquid and broken ceramic, and met Max’s eyes. “Diamonds?”

  Max crouched to pick up the mug shards and Sam squatted to help. “This is about diamonds?” She peered into his face.

  He shrugged. “That’s a big leap. If you’re right.”

  She glared at him. “You doubt my answer? Or you doubt me?”

  “I think you must be a really smart woman if you know the answer to some obscure movie trivia.” Taking the pieces they had collected from the floor, Max dumped them into the trash.

  She felt his suspicion, the sting of mistrust a slap across her face. All because she liked chick flicks, and remembered them. Oh, damn. Another piece of her memory slid into the puzzle of her life. Then again, what woman didn’t enjoy a good girl movie?

  “Anything else? Anything else about the movie that would lead you to believe it was about diamonds? Besides some character’s name? Or anything you want to share?”

  Her spine stiffened at the accusation clear in his voice, her jaw clenched.

  “You have a computer? I’ll show you,” she told him, anger flaring in her voice.

  Sam followed Max to the office on the second floor. It was small, but well equipped. She took a seat in front of a cherry desk, and scooted up to a state-of-the-art laptop with a wide screen. She wiggled the mouse, and the computer came to life revealing a screen saver. His computer was password-protected. Naturally.

  “You want to share the password or type it in yourself?” She leaned back, arms crossed over her chest, and waited.

  He bent over her and typed in his secret code. One more example of his mistrust. Bastard. He would sleep with her, but he did not trust her. He would touch her like no other man, but he didn’t have faith in her. If he didn’t believe in her, then he didn’t care for her. A shiver of dread ran through her body and settled in her gut. If he didn’t care, then she was expendable.

  The thought made her stomach lurch, but it cleared her head. Not only did she have to protect herself from whoever chased after her, she had to protect herself from Max. She had to watch her own skin and guard her heart.

  Shaking her head, Sam cleared the grim thoughts, and focused on her current task. She typed in a web address and in a few seconds, a website with everything you ever wanted to know about movies came into view. She performed a quick search, and all the information on The Fabulous Baker Boys displayed on screen.

  Pushing herself back, with a wave of her hand, she gestured for Max to look. She moved to vacate the seat, but before she took two steps, he put a firm hand on her arm, stopping her retreat.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t want him touching her. She wanted distance. The further, the better.

  “Sam, I’m sorry.”

  She wanted to believe his words, but they were ju
st that, words. Turning back around, she refused to make eye contact with him. Instead, she focused on the computer screen, and not the man she made love with all night.

  In an attempt to ignore the ripples of pleasure at his stroking fingers up her back, Sam leaned close to the monitor, and pointed to the evidence. “See?” Her voice too husky, she cleared her throat and spoke again. “Susie Diamond.”

  “I see. What else?”

  “The movie was about a woman who wanted to be a singer, hooks up with these two lounge singer guys, and she falls for one of them.” Sam shrugged and stood back up. “That’s about it. Is your brother a lounge singer?”

  “FBI.”

  The three-letter abbreviation stunned her, but the loathing in Max’s voice froze her in place.

  “Why don’t you just call them and ask them about your brother?”

  The look he gave her made her shudder. Anger and frustration fired from his eyes.

  “They won’t share any information. I’m just supposed to sit back and wait. They have everything under control.”

  As he blew out a breath, his fingers raked through chestnut hair. Sam watched him fight to control his fury. She wanted to reach out and soothe the fire, but feared getting burned.

  “It’s such a load of crap! They won’t tell me anything because they’re afraid I’ll do something stupid to ruin whatever undercover operation they have going on.” Max jumped to his feet. Fear and anger rolled off him in waves. It was a powerful force. Sam had to take a step in retreat.

  “Do I look that stupid?”

  It wasn’t a question, it was a plea.

  Sam touched him. With tentative fingers, she reached out and stroked his cheek. “No, Max. You’re not stupid.” Wrapping her arms around his waist, she offered comfort.

  “I would never put my little brother at risk. He’s all I got,” he whispered roughly against her hair. “I can’t wait around for them to screw up. I know how they function. They couldn’t give a damn about the operative, only the operation.”

  Sam pulled back, peered up at Max. He knows how they work? Could Max be FBI, too?