Page 13 of Raven’s Claw (Raven’s Cliff #2)
Chapter Six
Kash waited until Jordan slipped through the doorway before scanning the grounds one last time, checking the tree line twice before shaking off the goosebumps prickling down his spine.
He glanced at Nyx. She seemed fixated on a section of the forest at the outer edge of the property — where an old, heavily overgrown two-track met the fence.
It wasn’t four-by-four worthy without a hefty lift and a couple backup trucks for the eventual tow out, but a dirt bike might be able to eek its way down the winding path.
He gave Nyx a couple more seconds to decide if the area warranted further action, but the dog finally snorted then trotted inside, most of her earlier limp gone.
The alarm chirped as he armed it before making his way to the kitchen.
Jordan appeared around the corner dressed only in his over-sized hoodie and a pair of socks, her feet silent against the well-worn wooden floors.
She stopped across the island from him, claiming one of the bar stools then sliding him the knife.
He picked it up, testing the weight, wondering if she’d chosen it for tossing or slicing. “Nice choice.” He placed it back in the drawer, giving her an arch of his brow. “Anything else hiding beneath the hoodie?”
She grinned. “I might let you find out… after some coffee.”
He poured the fresh brew into a mug then slid if over to her, holding up a sugar bowl and some creamer. “I believe you take three sugars…”
“Don’t judge, just enable.”
“And there’s salted caramel or hazelnut?—”
“You had me with salted caramel.”
She added the sugar and creamer, blowing on the top before taking a cautious sip. “God, this should be illegal. Like a deadly sin kind of thing, it’s so damn good. Why would you ever buy coffee when you can drink this every day?”
He took a swig of his then leaned in, admiring the flecks of darker blue in her eyes. “To see you.”
She smiled at him across the mug, and his damn heart gave a hard thud.
He rubbed his chest, wondering if she’d heard it or if he was simply going insane.
The only theory that explained the non-stop clench of his stomach, as if he was falling but never hitting the ground.
Or the way he wanted to make her a dozen more cups of coffee just to keep that smile on her face.
Have her look up at him, all blue-eyes and ruby-red lips, the way she was right now.
As if he’d quieted some of those voices in her head.
He gave her a moment to savor the drink, then took a breath — blew it slowly out. “See anything interesting outside?”
She paused, studying him for a few seconds, as if she wasn’t quite sure if he was making small talk or suspected there was someone lurking in the shadows. That heavy feeling he’d felt before coming inside.
“Just Zain.” She leaned back in the chair, still sipping the coffee. “Damn, the guy’s fast. Leaps over brush and logs like a gazelle on steroids. You can barely tell he busted his right knee recently.”
“How do you know about his knee?” Kash knew Zain rarely talked about it. Not when it was a result of that fateful mission. All the baggage none of them were ready to unpack. Except maybe Foster. Though, that was all Mac’s influence.
Jordan scrunched up her nose. “He hides it well, and it’s not nearly as noticeable as when you all first came into the diner, but it’s stiff. Anyone who looks hard enough would notice.”
Kash chuckled. “I’m not sure anyone looks at people and situations the way you do, sweetheart.”
Her lips quirked at the endearment, and he had to mentally force himself not to round the island and take her in his arms. Give her another reason to smile.
She placed the mug on the counter, giving him a thorough once-over. “Does he always scout the perimeter? Or did I get his sniper-senses going at dinner?”
She knew he was a sniper, too? Which, of course she did. Even Kash agreed Zain didn’t hide that side of him all that well. He was too wired — too focused on having their backs to ever truly stand down. And that bled through his warm smile and easy banter.
“It wasn’t you. Or at least, not just you.”
Kash gave in the urge to circle around to her side, needing just a hint of contact to ease the jumpy feeling in his gut.
The one that wanted this to be a foreshadow of the foreseeable future — her, there with him.
But he could tell by how she kept fisting one hand then releasing it, she wasn’t ready to hear that.
For him to show her exactly how far he’d already fallen.
She turned to face him, grinning when he wedged his thighs between hers, her breath catching for a moment before her chest rose a bit quicker. “So, he searches the woods every night?”
“Pretty much. We had some trouble a few months ago, and things got ugly before we finally dealt with it. Between that and our last mission…” Kash sighed. “Despite what he claims — how he tries to smile it away — he’s having a hard time letting go.”
“You’re talking about Jack Voss, better known as Striker.
Gun for hire and a giant dick. I’m glad you boys took him off the playing field.
The jerk was a nightmare, always tweaked out on something.
Tended to shoot anyone who disagreed with him, regardless of which side they were on.
I hope they tossed him in a pit and lost the ladder. ”
Was his mouth hanging open? Drool dribbling down the side? Had he fallen and hit his head because he was pretty damn sure she’d just shared personal information without blinking an eye.
“Okay, you can’t say shit like that and complain when I ask you how the hell you know about him and what went down. I know Greer had to release a public statement but… Striker wasn’t part of that.”
Jordan closed her eyes, looking as if she was counting to ten or searching for some kind of biblical intervention before she grunted then met his gaze.
“You really must have blown my mind because I don’t make mistakes like that — just let intel spill out.
But since I did… All I can say is that I ran across guys like him.
Usually in places that didn’t produce any witnesses if someone got shot in the street in broad daylight.
I wasn’t part of that world, and I can assure you, he never saw me or knew I existed, but… ”
But she’d been exactly what Kash had thought she was. Shadow Ops. Likely part of a military branch that didn’t technically exist. Just an innocuous name on a file that went unquestioned.
He nodded, inching closer. “I’m trying really hard not to cross that line — give you a reason to run when I know you already have plenty. But I need you to hear me when I say… It doesn’t have to be that way. You. Running. You have options.”
He held up his hand when she inhaled, eyes suddenly wide. Her breath held as if she’d forgotten how to breathe. “I know. It’s complicated. I just…”
How could he say he needed her to trust him?
To give him a chance to pull her back from the fray?
Have her six against whatever forces were shadowing her?
They’d only scratched the surface of whatever was building between them.
What he swore was far more than lust or loneliness.
What he saw when Foster looked at Mac. It was crazy, and yet…
He couldn’t imagine not having her in his life.
That all those hours they’d spent talking over coffee, no matter how benign it had seemed, had been the start of this.
Them. Together. And he couldn’t go back.
Not without losing the part of himself he’d reassembled after that last mission.
All the blood and stitches he’d used to move forward.
He wasn’t sure if he’d truly dealt with that night.
The guilt. The loss. But with Jordan… He could give it a try.
Learn to make peace with the ghosts. All she had to do was let him in.
Jordan stared up at him, her usual bravado slipping away, leaving a version of her that wasn’t looking for all the exit points.
Wasn’t sizing up the rest of his knives or calculating how many seconds it would take to launch over the counter, grab the coffee pot and cold-cock him in the side of the head with it.
It was honest. Vulnerable. And he had her in his arms, his mouth crushed to hers before he had time to consider the consequences. If she’d toss him on his ass or jump in.
Thankfully, she chose the latter, spearing her fingers through his hair, using the stool to wrap her legs around his waist — lever into his arms. He thought about simply shucking his pants and taking her on the damn counter.
But that seemed dangerously close to the kind of encounters he suspected had been her norm.
Fast. Hard. With no strings to worry about once it was over.
He’d already screwed up and skated that line by loving her on the ottoman.
True, she’d been all-in, but he wanted her to know this wasn’t just two people grinding against each other.
A means of release. Not that he believed a quick shag on the counter, or against the wall, or in the shower equaled how he felt.
But until he knew she believed that too, he’d go the extra mile.
Do it right, with soft sheets and her gaze locked on his.
When she had no other option but to feel.
He slid his arms under her ass, grunting when he met only soft skin. Some of that resolve slipping away with the flex of her muscles as she writhed in his embrace, pressing against him as if she wanted to crawl inside.
She broke the kiss, glancing over her shoulder before raising a brow. “Counter’s fine.”
He clenched his jaw, focusing on something other than the raspy tone of her voice. The image that surfaced from her suggesting what had already been playing inside his head.
He managed a step, then another, meeting her wide eyes as he headed for the bedroom. “Next time because I need…”
You. All of you.
Had he said it? Thought it?