Part 5 (2/2)

”I love you.”

He rolled his hips against her, and Taige groaned, pressing against him, trying to ride the thick length invading her, but the awkward position made it impossible to do much more than squirm and rock against him. Cullen s.h.i.+fted her again, urging her upper body forward, once more bending her over the couch. Then he braced his hands on her hips, held her steady. He withdrew and then slammed into her, deeper, harder, stealing her breath away. She didn't even have time to gasp for air before he did it again, and again, taking her hard and fast.

There were no gentle kisses, no lingering touches, just his barely reined-in fury and the desperation that bled over into her as well. He held himself back until she came, and when Taige started to scream with it, he dropped even the pretense of control, battering her with bruising force, his fingers digging into her hips. The sound of his ragged breathing, her strangled moans, and the slap of flesh on flesh were the only noises, and then he came, his c.o.c.k jerking viciously inside her snug heat.

And just like that, it was over. He stepped away. Taige rolled her head on the back of the couch, staring at him through her lashes as he readjusted his pants. Slowly, she straightened. Her muscles felt like wax, and her legs wobbled under her as she pulled her panties and jeans back up. Between her thighs, she ached, and she could feel his s.e.m.e.n on her.

”Did I hurt you?” he asked hoa.r.s.ely. He was standing by the window, staring outside.

Taige shook her head. She was a little uncomfortable, and she'd probably be sore later, but she wasn't hurt. ”No.”

He nodded. But still, he wouldn't look at her.

She wanted him to. She almost said it out loud, Look at me, Cul en. But she didn't.

”You need to leave, Taige.”

His flat, unemotional words did a lot more damage than the roughness of the past few minutes, but she tried to understand. He hadn't been expecting her, probably had a house full of family, and other than his dad, none of them knew her. She wanted to be there, though. Wanted to be there for him, and it hurt that he didn't want that from her. ”I'll call you tomorrow,” she said softly.

Finally, he looked at her. He turned his head and met her eyes and said, ”Please don't. I don't want to talk to you, Taige. I don't want to see you again. Ever.”

FROM the window, he could see her, striding out to the Jeep parked at the far end of the drive, her head low, her arms wrapped around her middle. It was chilly out. She hadn't been wearing a jacket when she came in. Did she have one in the car? he wondered.

”f.u.c.k her like that, kick her out of your house, and now you worry she might get cold,” he muttered. ”Dumb a.s.s.” He kept watching her, hoping she'd look back at him just one more time.

But she never did. She climbed into the Jeep and didn't even get the door all the way closed before she threw it into reverse. He heard the faint squeal of the tires even from here. He kept watching, even after she disappeared around the bend in the road, and for a long time after. He had no idea how much time had pa.s.sed when his father knocked on the door. It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours.

Probably somewhere in between, because most of the cars in the drive were gone, and night had completely settled.

”Did I see Taige?” Robert asked softly.

Cullen nodded.

”She didn't stay long.” Robert didn't ask any questions, and Cullen was glad of that.

How could he answer, anyway? Mom's dead, and Taige should have been able to stop it.

No, that wasn't going to work. He hadn't told either of his parents about the weird things that Taige had been able to do, hadn't ever figured out how to explain it.

When Cullen stayed quiet, Robert said, ”Pretty long drive for her to make just to come by and say hi.”

”Leave it alone, Dad.”

Robert opened his mouth to speak, but then, as though he'd thought better of it, he closed it and sighed. ”Taige lost both her parents young, didn't she? I bet she knows all about hurting and grief. Knows how it can make you do or say things that you don't really mean.”

”What about things you do mean?” Cullen blurted out. He turned away from his dad and rubbed his hands over his face, wished he hadn't said anything. ”Can it make you say things that you do mean, even if you shouldn't?”

”Go after her, Cul en. You've lost enough right now. You don't need to lose her, too,”

Robert said gently.

But Cullen couldn't do it. Or rather, he wouldn't. He'd seen the hurt in her eyes. Yes, he blamed her, she knew it, and he hated himself for it, but there it was. He couldn't change how he felt. He imagined Taige would even put up with it. Put up with him and deal with the guilt he made her feel and the pain he could cause her.

But, even though he was irrationally furious with her, he wasn't going to do that.

She didn't deserve his misplaced anger, and he loved her. Even more than he wanted to hurt her for failing him, he loved her. Chasing her away was the only way he could keep himself from hurting her, over and over.

His dad finally gave up trying to talk to him and went downstairs, leaving Cul en alone in silence. Feeling lost, he wandered around in endless circles until finally he stopped by the couch, touching the spot where he had been with Taige. He rested his hand against the padded back and murmured, ”I'm sorry.”

PART TWO.

FOUR.

May 2008 TAIGE stalked into the kitchen, releasing the holster on her shoulder with one hand and holding the cordless phone in the other. ”d.a.m.n it, Jones, I said no. I am tired. I just spent four months in h.e.l.l because of you, and I'm not going back there just yet.” On her way past the table, she laid her weapon down.

”Taige-”

She took a deep breath as she opened the refrigerator, staring inside for something to drink. Her belly was an empty, aching pit, but she had no desire to eat. Just a drink.

Preferably something strong enough to send her cras.h.i.+ng into oblivion for the next eight hours. She wouldn't even mind the hangover too much, provided she had a little bit of peace before it hit.

”You aren't hearing me, Jones. I'm not your lackey. I am not one of your agents you can send running out for coffee or to go spy on the neighbors. You want my help; you have to ask me for it. You asked. I just said no. Now leave me the h.e.l.l alone.” She lowered the phone and disconnected it in the middle of Taylor Jones's rant.

Son of a b.i.t.c.h. She couldn't stand him. He had tried to recruit her before she even got out of college, and when he didn't succeed, he sent others to try their hand. Taige had refused al of them, unable to stand the thought of letting them stick her in some specialized unit where they'd use her like some psychic bloodhound and keep on doing it until she either dropped dead from the strain or burned herself out.

Death wasn't the issue for her. Most of the time, she felt more dead inside than alive.

Even the burnout part wouldn't be so bad-no voices in her head, no more nagging dreams-but the pace those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds would work her at would have been something akin to the lowest level of h.e.l.l. Instead, she agreed to take part in special task forces where the workload was only on the first or second level of h.e.l.l.

This last, though, it had been the worst. Four months undercover in Chicago. And Chicago in February was cold. She thought she just might freeze her a.s.s before she managed to infiltrate that child-p.o.r.n ring. Three families, al of them upper-middle-cla.s.s, all of them foster parents to troubled kids. Troubled kids they drugged and then sold to the highest bidder. Whoever sh.e.l.led out the most cash got to do whatever they wanted with the kid, and for a little extra, they could even keep the DVD made of the event.

Without that extra cash, that DVD might make its way onto the Internet, and G.o.d only knew who'd see it out there.

It had taken four months and the overdose of one of the victims before Taige had been able to ferret them out, but finally, they were all behind bars. Whether they would stay or not was up to the judicial system, but at least Taige could close her eyes knowing she had done her part.

It might even help her sleep for a little while. A few weeks, maybe a month or two.

Then the guilt would start chasing her again.

She didn't realize she was standing in front of the refrigerator with the door open until she started to s.h.i.+ver. With a scowl, she grabbed a bottle of white zinfandel from the shelf and let the door close. She popped the cork and poured a gla.s.s, emptying it in under a minute. Then she fil ed it to the top again and made her way into her office, bringing the rest of the wine with her.

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