The downside was that Jordie did. And Jordie was alive and well and in the FBI’s protective custody.

She still had to die, but he wasn’t going to rely on anyone else to do it. Enough with the hired help. He couldn’t trust either their competency or their loyalty. Besides, taking on the chore himself was an exciting prospect. Death throes had a way of shattering cool reserve like hers. It stirred his blood to think of instilling mortal fear in the condescending bitch and then watching the life fade from her big blue eyes. He would enjoy that very much.

Naturally there was some risk to coming out from hiding, but the reward outweighed it. From now on, whenever he wanted something done properly and in a timely fashion, he would do it himself.

Starting now.

Beside him Jordie lay naked and soft.

Well, soft except for the tips of her breasts that tightened as she rubbed them against his chest. He took one between his fingers and worried it gently. She made a purring sound. He pressed his tongue into her mouth to catch that sweet vibration.

Someone almost ruined their kiss by bumping into the bed, and Shaw wanted to snarl at the offender for the interruption, because Jordie’s kiss was delicious. She wasn’t a passive kisser, either, but an active and ardent participant. Her mouth compressed around his tongue, and he knew then how amazing it would feel once she took his penis. When they got to that. For now, however—

“How’s he doing?”

“Oh, hello, Doctor. I thought you’d left for the night.”

“I was about to, but decided to check on him once more before I go.”

“He’s been stirring, but hasn’t woken up. His vitals are good.”

“Temperature?”

“Normal.”

Somewhere far in the back of his mind, Shaw acknowledged that kissing Jordie was a bad idea, but now that he was doing it, not for the life of him could he stop. Although, classifying this as a mere kiss was like comparing a candle flame to a wildfire. This kiss was the stuff of wet dreams. He had unrestricted access to her. Mouth, the sexiest. Breasts, so easily aroused. The more of herself she allowed him, the more he wanted.

If word of his obsession got around, he’d become a laughingstock. His reputation was that of a hard-ass, a badass. Ruthless. Merciless. An unfeeling and unshakable son of a bitch. No one would expect bad Shaw Kinnard to go soft over a woman.

Oh, Jesus. Was he soft? No. He was hard. Wasn’t he?

He wasn’t sure. Things down there didn’t feel quite right. There was a persistent, throbbing heaviness in the lower part of his body, which was somewhat reassuring. But it didn’t feel like a normal erection. Strangely, he was reluctant to explore the source of that odd pressure. All he actually wanted to explore was Jordie, every enticing curve and hollow of her.

“I’m sorry, sir, you can’t come in here.”

“I’m Deputy Sheriff Clint Morrow.”

“And I’m the surgeon who just repaired this guy’s gut. He’s still in recovery ICU. You have to leave.”

“He’s my prisoner.”

“He’s my patient.”

Indifferent to their squabble, Shaw ignored them. He wanted to touch Jordie where it counted, and, judging by the way she was shifting against him, with restlessness and urgency, she was wanting him to.

He slid his hand down her smooth belly and cupped her sex. Yes, Shaw, yes.

Music to his ears. Because after what he’d put her through, she should hate him. She should be afraid of him, but she wasn’t. She was arching against him with what could only be desire and whispering naughty encouragement against his lips.

“Kinnard? Kinnard? Can you hear me?”

“Deputy Morrow! What are you doing back in here?”

“Just checking to see if he’s come around.”

“He hasn’t. And I heard the doctor ordering you out.”

“Can Kinnard hear me?”

“He’s unconscious.”

“He could be faking it.”

“He’s still under anesthesia. In any case, you must wait until after the doctor has checked him in the morning, and only then will he determine if the patient is up to being interrogated. It’s not like he’s going anywhere. Are these restraints really necessary?”

Somebody tugged on Shaw’s hand. It didn’t move. Not that one. The other one was stroking Jordie in that softest of soft places on a woman’s body. She was pressing herself up into his palm with want and invitation. He extended his middle finger down into the cleft, collected her moisture on the pad of his finger, and tantalized that most sensitive spot. Dipping his head, he did the same to her nipple with his tongue.

Teasing strokes in perfect concert. Pleasuring by painting small circles.

She clutched handfuls of his hair, chanted his name in gasps and sighs, implored him not to stop.

“The restraints stay on. Both hands. Be sure the rest of the nursing staff understands that. Don’t be taken in. He’s dangerous. Two nights ago, he shot a man in the back of the head.”

“Well, he’s not going to shoot anybody tonight. Please, Deputy. I’m the one who’ll get into trouble if I allow you to stay in here. Please leave. He won’t be fully conscious for hours yet.”

They left. Thank Christ. Now he could enjoy this erotic dream in peace.

Jordie’s breath had turned uneven. In shockingly explicit language, she begged him to put his fingers inside her. He was all too happy to oblige.

Holy hell. He’d thought her mouth was wet and hot and snug.

She clenched, drawing his fingers deeper. He eased them back, and when she whimpered in protest, he pushed them into her again. Higher. She clenched tighter.

And then in the miraculous way of dreams, he was suddenly on top of her, and it wasn’t his fingers but his cock embedded in her. She was squeezing it each time he thrust into her. God, it felt good.

Never one for prolonged foreplay—or kissing, for that matter—he’d always just as soon skip the preliminaries and get on to the main event. Not this time. Not with Jordie. He was in no hurry. He liked this unrushed fucking.

Best of all, he wasn’t going anywhere. He could keep at this for a long time. Till morning. Hours yet.

Jordie came awake as suddenly as though someone had shoved her out of sleep.

She expected to find herself reclined on a cloth-upholstered backseat, her hands and feet bound. It took several seconds for her to remember that she was in a hotel room. Creature comforts included fresh bedsheets and a pillow stuffed with the softest down. The temperature wasn’t sweltering; instead, she was chilled by air-conditioning.