Delta Force Die Hard

by Carol Ericson

  “I want to taste you, too.” She took his erection into her mouth and skimmed her tongue along the length of him.

  He moved against her and sucked in a breath. “I can’t last long like this.” He gasped. “Especially when you do that.”

  He pulled away from her and sat in the chair, yanking her down on his lap. “Is this a very expensive chair?”

  She straddled him. “Very.”

  “Oh, well.”

  He plunged into her and she rode him. At one point the chair flipped back into a reclining position, but it barely put a hitch in their rhythm—and they did have a rhythm.

  Having Joe inside her felt more right than anything she’d ever experienced. He seemed attuned to every nuance of her body to bring her maximum pleasure, which made her feel safe in his arms.

  When her climax took her this time, it flooded her body, rocking her gently up and down. That blissful ease didn’t last long as Joe reached his own pinnacle. He thrust against her madly, hungrily, clawing at her backside in a futile effort to purchase some stability.

  It didn’t work. He yelled and howled like a crazy man and took them both over the side of the chair.

  They lay on their sides, their limbs entwined, laughing and gasping, clinging to each other as if they’d never let go.

  Hailey didn’t want to ever let go.

  When the pounding on the front door started, reality came crashing down on their pretty dream.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Ms. Duvall? It’s Agent Porter.”

  Joe groaned and flung his forearm across his eyes. “I can’t believe the FBI is interrupting my postcoital haze.”

  “Is that what this is?” Hailey scrambled to her feet and lunged for her jeans and panties.

  She still had her top on, and Joe couldn’t believe he hadn’t explored those beautiful breasts along with the rest of her body.

  As she stepped into her jeans, she nudged his bare backside with her toe. “Move. I’m not inviting Porter in with you sprawled out on my floor naked.”

  “I would hope not.” Joe gathered up his clothing, the pillows and both blankets and headed up the stairs, two at a time.

  He slipped into Hailey’s bedroom, chilly from the cold air seeping through the hole in the window. Porter’s banging on the door and this cold slap to the face both served as reminders of his true mission here in San Francisco—and that wasn’t to finally land the rich girl.

  The murmur of voices carried upstairs. He tossed Hailey’s pillow back on her bed, messed up the covers and dropped the knitted blanket on the foot of the bed. Then he dragged the other blanket to the guest room Ayala was supposed to occupy before she was poisoned at dinner and put it and the pillows back on the bed.

  He clicked the door closed, made up the bed and got dressed just as Hailey led Porter upstairs.

  He pressed his ear to the guest room door and heard Hailey’s voice. “I had a friend with me and he noticed a red dot on my forehead and pushed me down.”

  “Where’s your...friend now?”

  “He went home. You don’t need to talk to him, do you? He doesn’t know anything, and the cops already interviewed him last night.”

  “The police took the bullet?”

  “Dug it right out of the wall over here.”

  The voices faded out to the point where Joe could just hear a word or two.

  He paced the room while he waited, feeling ridiculous hiding out. Would Porter even know who he was? Recognize his name? He didn’t want to take any chances. Major Denver needed him active and engaged, not sidelined and reprimanded. So, for now he’d hide out like a thief in the night.

  He walked past the bed for the hundredth time and kicked the cord connecting Ayala’s laptop to an outlet under the bed.

  Finally, he heard the front door slam and Hailey’s footsteps on the stairs.

  She tapped on the door. “Are you decent?”

  He called back, “Does it matter?”

  The door swung open, and Hailey stood on the threshold, one hand on her hip. “I was hoping you weren’t.”

  He swooped toward her and kissed her mouth, just because he could. “How’d it go? Did you finally get Porter’s attention?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She wrapped her hands around his waist and tucked her hands in his back pockets—probably because she could. “He figures it was a high-powered rifle, and this time, unlike the car on the sidewalk, whoever took aim at me had deadly intent.”

  “No kidding. You told him about Ayala?”

  “I did, and he’s taking that seriously, too. I also asked him to check on Naraj and if he’d heard anything from the UK about Andrew yet.”

  “And?”

  “The FBI was actually one step ahead of me. They’ve tried contacting Naraj, but nobody can find him.” She bit her lip and shook her head at him. “Don’t even say it.”

  “What about Andrew Reese?”

  “MI6 hasn’t contacted him yet, or at least the CIA hasn’t let Porter know anything about Andrew. I think Porter turned over the request to the CIA, so they’re looking into Andrew’s whereabouts.”

  “Gotta love that cooperation between agencies. Do you see now why my teammates and I are taking the investigation of Denver into our own hands? We can’t get anyone to believe us about the conspiracy, even after what Cam and Asher uncovered.”

  “I think I’m making some progress with Agent Porter, though. That sniper attack on me rattled him...and he’s not easily rattled.”

  “The Fibbies tend to be a stoic bunch.” Joe ran a hand through his hair. “I need a shower if we’re going to head over to the hospital and pick up Ayala.”

  “She won’t be discharged until later today, but let’s get breakfast and I have a few last-minute errands to run for the event.” Placing her hands against his chest, she whispered, “I’d offer to shower with you, but then we’d never get out of here.”

  “God, I’m glad you’re safe.” He enfolded her in his arms.

  “Thanks to you. I’m glad you accosted me on Fisherman’s Wharf. I don’t know where I’d be if you hadn’t.”

  “Maybe you would’ve been safer.” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “Maybe they’re targeting you because of me. If you’d kept your head down, accepted that Marten had changed his mind about the meeting and had gone about your business as usual, you might not have ended up with a red laser beam on your forehead.”

  She stepped back from him, and strands of her hair stuck to his chin, keeping them connected. “Don’t be dumb. Marten involved me the minute he contacted me when he got here, the minute he decided to leave me a key.”

  “You might be right.”

  “I am right.” She placed her hands on his shoulders and squeezed. “And if you hadn’t been around to protect me, I’d be in big trouble right now...or dead.”

  A knot twisted in his gut, and he pulled her close again, inhaling the musky scent of morning sex that clung to her body. His own body responded, and he took a step back so she couldn’t feel his erection. He cleared his throat. “When are you getting that window fixed?”

  Her gaze dropped to his crotch as a smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. “I’ll call someone today to fix that... The window, I mean.”

  “You have a dirty mind, Ms. Duvall.” He pinched her chin between his thumb and the side of his forefinger.

  “You have no idea, Captain McVie.” She patted his backside before spinning around. “But unless you plan to use what you’re packing there, we need to get ready to go to the hospital.”

  “Towels?”

  As she reached the bedroom door, she looked over her shoulder. “That was a fast recovery. Should I be insulted?”

  “Even the thought of a cold shower will do that to a guy, so no.”

  “Clean towels and everything else you’ll need ar
e in the bathroom.”

  She swept out of the room, and he said to the closed door, “Not everything I need.”

  * * *

  LATER AS HE sat beside Hailey in the Jag, he turned toward her. “Do you think Ayala will be able to make it to the fund-raiser?”

  “If she doesn’t have any lasting effects from the poison, she should be okay, but I don’t know if she’ll want to attend now. Why would she want to broaden that target on her back, especially once she hears what happened last night?”

  “She didn’t seem that enthusiastic in the first place.”

  “Yeah, she’s shy and definitely doesn’t like to brag about her efforts.”

  “I got that. Didn’t seem interested in talking about the refugee center at all. Most of the time, people who do work that’s close to their hearts like that can’t stop talking about it.”

  “Ayala’s reserved.” She swung into the passenger loading area on the side of the large hospital’s emergency entrance. “I think we can leave the car here as long as we’re picking up a patient.”

  “And if we can’t, you can always drop your father’s name.”

  She threw the car into Park and pointed a finger at him. “I’m gonna take that as a joke, McVie.”

  “I’m only half joking. I’m getting accustomed to the perks afforded by Ray Duvall.”

  She snorted and exited the car.

  The parking attendant tucked a ticket beneath the windshield wiper of the Jag, and Joe took Hailey’s arm as they walked into the cavernous hospital.

  They passed the emergency waiting room, and a man called out to Hailey.

  Joe’s protective instincts flared, but before he could embarrass himself again by taking down one of Hailey’s friends, Hailey waved to the man.

  “Patrick, how’s it going?”

  “Great.” Patrick walked toward them, a slight limp hindering his gait. He gave Hailey a hug, and a different kind of instinct flared in Joe’s gut.

  Hailey pulled away first and gestured toward Joe. “Patrick, this is my friend Joe. Joe, Patrick.”

  As he shook Patrick’s hand, Joe childishly applied more pressure than necessary. What made it worse was that Patrick’s eyes twinkled, reading him like a cheap paperback novel.

  Hailey touched Patrick’s arm. “I hope you’re not here for yourself.”

  “Naw—” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder “—one of the guys took a fall this morning.”

  Joe gazed over Patrick’s shoulder at a transient, holding his head in his hands.

  Hailey followed Joe’s line of sight. “Patrick runs a homeless shelter in the Mission District.”

  “Mission Hope.” Patrick jingled a large key chain in his hand. “Hailey’s foundation has contributed a lot of money to our cause.”

  As usual, Hailey brushed off the praise. “Tax deduction.”

  Patrick’s keys fell out of his hands, and Joe stooped to retrieve them. “Let me.”

  He scooped up the keys. As he shook them out, his pulse jumped. “What is this key?”

  “Which one?” Patrick’s eyebrows created a V over his nose.

  Joe plucked out a key with a round cardboard tag attached to it. He studied the tag, but the writing on it in pencil had been smeared off—just like another key.

  “That’s a key to one of the lockers at the shelter.”

  “The shelter called Mission Hope. M-I-S-S...”

  Hailey’s eyes widened as she snatched the key from Joe’s hand. “It looks the same. Marten knew about my work with Mission Hope, knew I’d been there before.”

  Patrick’s head turned from side to side as if he were watching a tennis match. “What are you two talking about and can I please have my keys back?”

  “Sorry.” Hailey dropped the key chain into Patrick’s outstretched palm. “Someone left me a key, and we’ve been trying to figure out what it unlocked.”

  “Do you have it on you?”

  Hailey patted her pockets. “I left it at home, but it looks the same, doesn’t it?”

  “It sure does. Patrick, what did the writing on this circle say before it was wiped off?”

  “‘Mission Hope.’”

  Joe asked, “Who gets keys to those lockers?”

  “They’re first come, first served. If a homeless person comes to the shelter and has valuables, or at least what he considers valuables, he can leave them in a locker while he’s sleeping at the shelter or when he goes out to panhandle.” Patrick extended his hand to Joe. “You’re welcome to come by and check out the lockers at any time...as long as you bring a check or some food or toiletries. Nice to meet you. I have to get back to Michael.”

  Joe shook the man’s hand—without the extra pressure this time. “Thanks. We’ll do that.”

  “Great to see you again, Patrick.” Hailey gave him a hug.

  Patrick returned to Michael and sat next to him in the plastic chair.

  Seemed he was surrounded by do-gooders. Joe touched Hailey’s back. “Looks like we found the match to our key.”

  “I think so. Marten was at the shelter for some reason and thought it was a good idea to get a locker.”

  “Maybe because he figured nobody would think to look in a locker at a homeless shelter—except for his philanthropic friend who just might recognize a key from Mission Hope.”

  “As soon as we get Ayala settled at my place, we’ll grab that key and pay a visit to Mission Hope with food and toiletries in hand.”

  Hailey checked in at the desk and joined Joe at the wide double doors leading to the treatment rooms of the emergency wing.

  “The nurses told me she’s doing fine and is ready to leave.”

  They found Ayala’s bed, which occupied one of four curtained-off areas in a large room.

  Hailey whipped back the curtain and rushed to Ayala’s bedside. “Oh my God. How are you doing? I was so worried when I found you on that bathroom floor.”

  Ayala, her dark head propped up against a snowy-white pillow, gave Hailey a weak smile. “I can imagine.”

  Hailey whispered, “Was it poison? Did the police come by and talk to you?”

  Ayala gave a shake of her head. “It wasn’t poison, Hailey.”

  “What?”

  Joe pushed a chair against the backs of Hailey’s legs before she collapsed, and she sank into it.

  He put a hand on Hailey’s shoulder. “What did the doctors say, Ayala?”

  She shrugged, and the hospital gown slipped from one shoulder. “A stomach upset and too much alcohol.”

  Hailey hunched forward. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

  “I don’t know what to believe. I’ve been drunk before. This didn’t feel like too much alcohol. Maybe it was all our talk before, but I immediately thought someone had poisoned me.”

  “But the doctors didn’t find any poison in your system.” Joe sucked in one side of his cheek. “I suppose there are certain poisons that can be masked.”

  “Are there?” Ayala folded her arms. “I wouldn’t know, but I do want to get out of here.”

  Hailey squeezed her hand. “We’re here to pick you up and take you back to my place, but I should warn you, someone took a shot at me through my bedroom window last night.”

  Ayala gasped and clutched the sheet. “This is crazy. You should get out of this city, Hailey. We both should.”

  “I’m planning on it, but not before the fund-raiser. You’ll be safe at my place for now. How are you feeling?”

  “A little weak, but fine. They did pump my stomach, so if it was some kind of stealth poison, it’s out now.” Ayala closed her eyes. “Hailey.”

  “Yes?” Hailey shot a sidelong glance at Joe.

  “I can’t do that gala now. I’m sorry. I just want to get back to Florida.”

  “Of course. Don’t even thin
k about it.”

  A nurse bustled into the area, clutching paperwork to her chest. “Ms. Khan, you just need to sign a few forms and you’re on your way.” Ayala scribbled her signature a couple of times, and the nurse left some papers with her. “Hope you’re feeling better.”

  Ayala swung her legs off the bed. “I’ll feel better when I get out of this hospital gown and away from the guy hacking up his guts next to me.”

  Hailey stood up and retrieved Ayala’s neatly folded clothes from a shelf. “Will you be okay if we leave you at my place on your own for a while?”

  “Sure. Why?” Ayala took the bundle of clothing from Hailey.

  Joe gritted his back teeth. Why did Hailey feel the need to spill the beans to everyone? That key was need to know, and Ayala Khan didn’t need to know.

  “We think we might’ve found out what Marten’s key unlocks.”

  “Oh?”

  “By chance, I ran into a friend of mine who runs Mission Hope in the Mission District, and he had a key on him that looks just like Marten’s.”

  “Be careful, Hailey. I still think you should let this go. I’m not sure the doc knows what he’s talking about. That was poison coursing through my veins.” She held out one hand to Joe. “Tell her, Joe.”

  “You know Hailey better than I do.”

  Ayala sighed. “You’re right. Just take care of her. Now, if you two don’t mind, I’m going to get out of this ugly gown.”

  “We’ll be in the waiting room.” Hailey patted Ayala’s hand. “Take it easy.”

  Joe kept quiet down the corridor, which buzzed with new arrivals, a crying baby and nurses weaving in and out of the rooms. When they got back to the waiting room, he plopped down in a plastic chair that wobbled beneath him.

  “That was strange.”

  “Ayala? I know. Why was she so sure it was poison?”

  “Maybe she lied to get out of the speech at the fund-raiser.”

  Hailey punched his thigh as she sat down. “Be serious. It could’ve been poison that the doctor didn’t or couldn’t detect.”

  “That’s a possibility.” Joe nibbled on a rough cuticle on the side of his thumb.