Jericho Page 3

  “Thanks.” Emotions and reactions in check, she turned her back to him and slowly made her way to the cupboard next to the fridge. Inside was her favorite tea – she grabbed it and gushed, “English Breakfast!”

  First a moan of delight, followed by several soft giggles – she ignored the ominous stranger and got busy searching for sugar while eyeing the quart of milk he gripped in his big scarred hand. Thankfully, she found two more quarts in the fridge. “Can I offer you a cup of tea?”

  An incredulous expression on his harsh face, he only grunted and continued guzzling milk right out of the carton.

  Ewww. Fine, she’d take that as a no. Maybe she shouldn’t talk to him so much. Maybe he just wanted to be alone. Not wanting to crowd him, she placed her tea on the high island countertop several seats away. The stool, at least four feet off the ground and since she stood at only five feet and a couple of inches tall, might prove to be impossible the way she felt right now – legs shaking, head pounding, not to mention she had no energy left.

  There was nothing to grip onto so she wedged her knee onto the seat and gripped the counter to lamely wrestle her bum onto the stool – it wasn’t pretty.

  Now her head hurt more and a fine sheen of sweat covered her entire body. She mumbled, “Feels like Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Sheesh!"

  A low chuckle brought her flashing green eyes up to see him almost smiling. If he was working the Mona Lisa smile, he was rockin’ it.

  Hands wrapped around the mug, scented steam wafted in the air, easing her tension. One tiny sip and her stomach roared to life, growling loudly. Now that she had her favorite tea, she needed to achieve the next step – food. “Truly, a girl could starve around here.”

  White teeth flashed and brightened his grim hard features as he roughly laughed. “Was gonna make a sandwich,” He slid his big body off the stool and stood to almost six and a half feet tall. “Want one?”

  “Please!”

  He wore no shirt, only a pair of grey sweat pants and high tech multi-colored runners. Both the front and back of his upper body was covered in white scars with many an inch long and others much longer. It appeared he'd been slashed over and over again, left to heal and then slashed again. Twisted knots of skin not healed properly left ugly uneven marks dotting his olive skin.

  Heart breaking to see, she hid her horror by looking down into her mug of tea. Still, she couldn't help but wonder what had happened to him. Yet, she shied away from any answers, needing peace and quiet, too weary with her own troubles to delve into his.

  Like a lot of males, he didn't seem to be a talker and that was just fine with her. Silence held a certain comfort of sorts. It asked no questions – demanded nothing – but also gave nothing. For now, that was exactly what she needed.

  That didn't stop her thoughts from rolling onwards. The evidence of torture all over what she could see of his body was a sight she would never forget. Without seeming to, she studied him.

  A big male, his movements were surprisingly sure, precise and economical. A long deep scar, white with age, ran around the line of his chin and curled out of sight. Oddly, now that she looked closer the multitude of scars on his torso didn’t take anything away from his magnificent physic. All muscle and abs spanning his front were delicious. Muscular arms as big as her waist could probably crush a male.

  Methodically, he lined up all the ingredients for the sandwiches, squaring everything off to some kind of imaginary perfect line. So precise, it was obvious this male needed order and structure. It was weird to watch him line up everything – maybe she should take it as a warning that he was in bad shape and she had every right to be afraid.

  She didn't buy it.

  Sure he was dangerous, but if he was a threat, she wasn’t picking up on it. Somehow, she was sure her Chic Radar was still intact. Torture was this male’s middle name, no doubt, but she didn’t sense any threat from him. “What’s your name?”

  “Rad.” Lightly buttered bread squared to another imaginary line, he grabbed the mustard laying out a line or two. Next, he layered crepe thin slices of ham onto one side of the bread. Delicately, he peeled back more thin slices of ham, building the second sandwich and amazing her. It was almost an art with this male.

  Not an ounce of softness to this male, his big hands covered with scars and callouses, yet he built each sandwich with tender loving care. A crisp layer of lettuce, a dash of pepper and he closed the sandwich.

  She held her breath, hoping he didn’t squish it. Somehow, she knew she hated that whole sandwich squishing process. How did she know that? Why did she remember some things and not others – important stuff – like her own name.

  Voice a deep rasp, he asked quietly, “Do you remember what happened? I heard you said your name was Abe.”

  After waking from her coma, she showed no response to the name.

  “No, I don't know what happened. Abe, well it doesn’t seem like…no, not yet.” She ducked her head, hiding confusion, fear and everything in between as tears threatened to roll.

  Lost in thought, she glanced up to see Rad reverently holding a superb sandwich out to her with a catchy twinkle in his hazel eyes. She took it in both hands, not about to quibble she preferred it cut into four. Huh? How did she know that?

  One huge bite and rolling her eyes, a soft moan escaped. “Mmhmm, thanks Rad. It’s delicious. I won’t starve as long as you’re around.”

  They ate in silence, him standing opposite, leaning over the counter as gobs of yellow mustard dripped from the bottom of his sandwich. He obviously loved it – there was a yellow ring running along his top lip. She grinned and continued eating, feeling better with each fantastic bite. Her head wasn’t pounding and her stomach was sore, but settling too.

  Neither of them needed to fill the empty spaces. It was enough just sharing the silence, enjoying the food.

  Abe had to give him credit and a lot admiration. He hid nothing – wore his scars like a badge and she recognized he was a male of worth, a male of honor.

  With Rad it was very much – what you see, is what you get. Any female could appreciate that.

  Idly, she wondered if the rest of him was scarred in a similar fashion. It didn't bear thinking about while eating. Besides, she was enjoying the quiet and his simple company.

  “Rad? You cool, man?” A deep rich velvety voice called from the dining room behind her.

  A shiver of raging need filled a valley of warmth inside her. She had feverishly hoped the male whose voice she remembered so clearly was real and not part of those crazy dreams she had while drifting in and out of consciousness.

  “Yeah, boss. It’s all good.” Rad nodded, stuffing the end of his sandwich into his mouth while tidying up.

  Jericho waited a heartbeat, willing Rad to look up. No big surprise he didn’t. Rad had come a long way since his rescue and return to civilization several months back, but he was still prone to violent outbursts and rages.

  Unpredictable was Rad’s middle name.

  Jericho loosened his muscles, easing his stance – going for casual with no worries. The last thing he needed was an agitated or alarmed Rad near the female – who sat unaware right in the midst of a volatile and dangerous situation.

  Rad didn't mix well now with others and had refused to be around females since one of his torturers had been female.

  Only he and Reno handled Rad since his rescue as he was excessively volatile with anyone else and often unintentionally hurt those he cared about. Last time a simple game of pool had set him off. None of them knew how or why. Nevertheless, Jericho believed slowly and surely Rad was coming around.

  Quietly, Reno stepped in beside Jericho. “He okay?”

  Jericho shrugged. “For right now.”

  Reno nodded, forehead creased, body tense. A wink to Jericho and he peeled in close to the dining room wall out of sight to keep six just in case Rad exploded.

  CHAPTER 4

  It was funny, but weird how clearly she recalled his voice.
In and out of consciousness, she had no clue what he had said or even if she had heard him more than once. Yet the timbre, the nuance, the richness of it had imprinted on her. Such a soothing, lush baritone, his voice had tethered her, refusing to let go.

  A casual glance over her shoulder revealed a tall male in all his gorgeous glory – roped with hard muscle and handsome beyond words.

  Damn, she hoped he had been the one who undressed her!

  Color stained her cheeks, but she didn’t turn away, making every effort to also imprint his image in her mind – standing tall and proud in that doorway, his big shadow cutting into the early morning light cascading behind him. He had a sexy, inviting smile with a hint of longing in his incredible intense blue eyes and a tilt to his strong chin demanding attention.

  No doubt, he got attention as often as he wanted looking like that.

  Truly a beautiful male – straight black hair dusted his broad muscular shoulders, framing his handsome face with thick black brows and true blue eyes. Those deep blue eyes cut to the chase – holding hers for a second or two – as heated flashes of pleasure ran up and down her body. Eyes drifting lower, she followed the line of his strong nose when his mouth captured her attention and she lingered there – his sensuous lips slightly parted and just waiting for her kisses.

  Fantasy 101 – in the flesh.

  A big male, he stood at least six foot five inches tall with a broad well muscled chest that narrowed at his waist, topping thighs like tree stumps. He wore black – jeans, silk shirt opened to reveal his muscled chest – right down to his big cowboy style boots. An aura of command and power clung to him, yet he appeared casually in control by the hard set of his shoulders and hands loose at his sides – all clear signs this male was a natural born leader.

  Well aware she was mooning at him, it was impossible to look away. It was hard not to notice his chiseled features had turned dark and brooding, telling he wasn’t happy to see her. She certainly didn’t recognize him, but had been drawn to him from the moment she heard his voice.

  Shocked and surprised by her intense reaction, a shiver crawled up the back of her neck as she turned back to her tea.

  Jericho took note of her shiver and her wet hair, furious that she was out of bed when she clearly wasn't ready. Dark shadows beneath her eyes revealed the effort it had taken her to bathe and come downstairs. Her bare feet startled the hell out of him. “What are you doing up?” His sharp tone demanding an instant answer.

  She sighed. Maybe it had all been a part of one of those crazy dreams she’d had, feeling the warmth of his voice tethering her. But, at this moment, he sure didn’t sound soft and soothing. No richness, no gentle baritone, no give – his voice now hard and mean, but worse by far – commanding.

  Glancing over her shoulder again as Rad disappeared downstairs – it was all too evident the big male in the doorway gave the orders around here. Right now, he appeared utterly cold – a male who never gave in to emotion – all male all the time.

  Yet, he took her breath away.

  He was a pleasurable assault on all fronts – visually, mentally and physically.

  Mmhmm.

  Best eye candy ever.

  Except in this case, her irritation was growing due to his harshly abrupt manner and her thought was why shouldn't he be irritated too.

  “Thirst and hunger is your answer.” Turning her back to him, she added a big dismissive shrug so he wouldn’t miss it. As silence drew out behind her, she knew she’d hit the mark.

  Jericho’s deep voice held an aggressive edge, a reminder of his authority. “I gave no order for you to get out of bed.”

  Back turned to him, she snorted loudly, wrapping her hands around the still warm mug. For added effect, she let go a long low groan of regret. “Orders? Really?”

  Speechless, but unwilling to admit it, he held his rising temper in check. “Yes. And, you will obey me.” Was she insane? No one spoke to him like that. Still, he realized, she had suffered a serious blow to the head and a gentler approach might work best. Although certainly not his style, he liked to think he had some compassion still.

  “Obey?” She snorted again. It was very unladylike, but no words said as much. Shoulders bobbing up and down, she silently laughed.

  His incredible deep blue eyes narrowed to a single focus.

  Was she mocking him?

  Laughing at him?

  Or both?

  No one dared before.

  It would definitely be another first in a line of firsts with this particular female. Instantly, he recalled sitting in the back of the SUV holding her in his lap, snuggled up against his chest with his nose buried in her hair and breathing in her scent – honey, lemons and rain. How he had hoped they never got back to the compound because he wanted to hold her like that forever – and not ever let go.

  He would never forget how her lush body fit perfectly into his, beautiful breasts crushed against his chest with her sweet ass filling his lap and riding his woody.

  From the first moment he saw her – he craved her and yearned to cherish every inch of her.

  Even though he had already experienced a number of firsts with her, it was her profound effect on him that blew his mind. This female didn’t even know his name or who he was and yet she tore emotions and feelings out of him he’d long thought dead. All while unconscious too.

  A female he had never had a conversation with. A powerful female he had no clue about; what she was, who she was or why she had summoned him. He knew absolutely nothing about her and yet this female enriched the fabric of his life just by her presence.

  It still astounded him how everything changed the first time he took her into his arms – how he had intimately sensed she was his.

  Stoically, he cut off his rapid-fire emotions, his features settling into harsh lines, revealing nothing.

  Most certainly females weren’t meant for keeping.

  On any fucking count – they were nothing but complicated.

  Staying single had been their way of life for centuries now. Neither he nor the other males of his elite team had lived as monks. Nuh, uh. Indeed, Reno and Zulu had both carved a swath through the eastern seaboard a few years ago, forcing them to move to a new location. He was not going to go into any of the other males on his team.

  No angel, Jericho had his share of females or two.

  Okay, maybe fifty.

  Thousand.

  But none of them had anything on this female.

  A nameless female, unless he wanted to call her Abe and that wasn’t happening. Too masculine, it didn’t fit.

  Jericho wanted to help her and had spent time researching amnesia, which turned up zilch. Nor did anyone he talked to have any first-hand experience. Caleb printed reams of shit off the net, but with so many theories out there, they had no way of knowing which was the best one. Cal had located a renowned doctor on the subject and Conn made an appointment. The eminent Dr. Juravinsky from Prague was an expert in amnesia.

  Heart thumping, Jericho moved so fast it was impossible to see as he scooped her into his arms just as she slithered off the side of the high stool, heading directly for the hard stone floor. Her bare feet and pretty polished toes an irritating reminder that she wore no shoes.

  Fuck, they needed rugs, lotsa rugs everywhere and shoes – she needed shoes – in every room.

  He froze in panic, his heart almost beating out of his chest.

  She wasn’t staying!

  No.

  Fucking.

  Way.

  With her around, he couldn’t function or concentrate. He held her close to his chest, her face buried in his neck with her pert nose nestled in his hair. With just that touch, his big body grew instantly hot. Tersely he asked, “Are you crazy? You could’ve hurt yourself.”

  She struggled in his powerful arms, palms pressed flat to his chest as she peered up at him, her big emerald eyes wide with worry and a ton of questions. “Am I crazy?”

  Long blonde curls ba
thed his arm and shoulder, tantalizing nerve endings. Lush, kissable breasts crushed against his chest drove home his need as the zipper of his low rider jeans imprinted along his raging cock. “Apologies, I didn’t mean it like that. I spoke too quickly.”

  She dipped her head, but then looked up again, meeting his eyes. She could get lost in his incredible blue eyes and never want to find a way out. They were too close – he was overwhelming her.

  “Please put me down.” She waited, but he didn’t move. Not looking away, his deep blue eyes mesmerized her and something shifted as if she took one small step to the left, exiting this world and entering one of heat, sensation and pure passion. She wanted without knowing what it was she wanted, but burned with unnamed needs and more than willing to lose herself in this moment.

  It was far too intimate.

  “Really, I’m okay now.”

  He slid his index finger under her chin, tilting it up so she couldn’t look away. “Myn lykyng, do you feel well enough to be up? How’s your head?”

  “I can’t lay around forever and my head still aches a little, but not like before. Is that my name?”

  Jericho, rarely at a loss for words, shook his head, refusing to answer. It was far too soon, struggling as she was to even recall her own name. Never mind him attempting to explain how she lit a fire in him, made his world a vibrant, brighter place. No less dangerous or deadly, but just her presence lifted his spirits and gave him peace. Peace he hadn’t felt for too many years.

  “Please put me down. Rad made me a sandwich and I ate it all. I really do feel better. Let me try my sea legs.”

  “Can’t. You’re not wearing shoes.”

  Frustrated she groaned, her forehead resting on his chest, lips pressed against his shirt, her breath heating his skin as she admitted, “I don’t think I like them much.”

  Her confidence and trust stunned him. The way she touched him, skin to skin drove him nuts and his cock turned into a steel spear. Clueless, he asked, “Shoes?”