Undercover Refuge

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  “Red!” he hollered. “Stop!”

  “Like hell!” she called over her shoulder, and kept going.

  Rush crashed through a few more patches of trees. He was getting winded.

  “I’m not going to hurt you!” he almost wheezed.

  “Says every villain in every movie ever!” she yelled, sounding not in the slightest bit bothered by the mad flight.

  “I’m trying to help you!”

  “Help someone else!”

  Any second, she was going to pull ahead. God knew where she’d take off to, and once she was out of sight and out of reach, Rush wouldn’t stand a chance of being able to protect her from Garibaldi.

  Then luck finally threw him a bone. Alessandra let out an abrupt shriek, flailed her arms, and fell forward.

  One part grateful for the break in his favor and one part worried whether or not she’d hurt herself, Rush pushed on. He at last caught up. Just as she rolled from her back to her front, spitting dirt from her mouth as she aimed his gun at him yet again.

  Rush stared down at her, his ragged breathing forgotten as he caught sight of her. Her too-big T-shirt had come untied at the side, and the loose collar was torn halfway down one sleeve. Her chest rose and fell quickly, as distracting as her wild, tangled mess of hair. Dirt streaked her clothes and her face. But in spite of it all, there was nothing vulnerable about her appearance. She was tough and defiant. Determined to best him despite everything.

  Might have something to do with the fact that she’s got that thing pointed at you, he thought wryly, his eyes flicking to the gun.

  “Go ahead,” he said calmly. “Fire.”

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re saying that because you think I won’t.”

  “I think most people prefer not to shoot others,” he replied. “And if you weren’t at least a little bit hesitant, then you would’ve shot me already. As you so nicely pointed out...you’re not a natural-born thug.”

  “Maybe I’ll aim for your knee.”

  “Like I said...go ahead.”

  She grumbled something unintelligible, then sat up, swung the gun to the side and pulled the trigger. It clicked uselessly. Alessandra’s eyes widened. Then they moved from him to the weapon. She tried again with no difference.

  “Play with it all you want,” Rush said. “You’ll get the same result. I’m not quite inept enough to leave a loaded weapon just lying around.”

  Alessandra dropped the gun and started to scramble backward. She almost immediately slammed into a tree.

  Rush stepped forward and held out his hand. “Want some help? Maybe have a bit of a nonviolent conversation?”

  “There’s something seriously wrong with you,” she told him angrily.

  “Wrong with me? I still don’t know exactly what’s going on here. When I left you, you were sound asleep. Snoring.”

  “I don’t snore!”

  “You do. But that wasn’t my point.”

  “You told your ‘friend’ you were going to get rid of me. If you’re just going to toy with me...”

  He missed the last part of whatever she was saying as he finally clued in. She’d asked about his phone conversation because she’d overheard it. Or the last bit of it, anyway. No wonder she was ready to shoot him. Hell. He was probably lucky she hadn’t found a way to seriously hurt him. She was pretty calm, all things considered.

  Calm? She’s about to bolt. Again.

  It took him a second to realize the thought wasn’t a generic one. Alessandra was literally crouched down like an Olympic sprinter, just a heartbeat away from running.

  With a frustrated grunt, Rush sprang forward and tackled her. This time, he didn’t mess around with a pretend struggle. He knocked her to the forest floor, pinned her arms to her ground on either side of her body and used his own weight to hold her lower half in place.

  “Let me go!” Her demand was forceful, but softened by the tears forming in her eyes.

  Guilt hit Rush, but he knew better than to ease up, and instead, he spoke in a soft voice. “Back it up, Red. Don’t you think if I was going take care of you, gangster-style, I would’ve done it by now?”

  She blinked. “How would I know what the protocol for offing someone is?”

  In spite of the circumstances, he had to fight a chuckle. “Well. I can assure you, it’s not letting someone with an unloaded gun get the better of me. Think about it for a second, Red. I’ve got you alone at a cabin. You have a known habit of getting lost, and a broken cell phone. And on top of that, you’re wearing flip-flops. You have no viable means of escape. If I were going to off you, it’d be over already.”

  She relaxed—just enough that he could see the tension go out of her shoulders—and persisted. “Maybe you needed to extract information from me, first.”

  Now he fought a sigh instead of a laugh, because it was at least a partly true suggestion. “What information could I possibly extract from you? Have you got secrets I should know about?”

  “No,” she said quickly.

  “You sure? You don’t want to think about that for a second or something?”

  “See? Now you sound like you’re interrogating me. And holding me captive hardly breeds trust.”

  “If I let you go, you’ll hit me, kick me or run away.”

  “To be fair, you told me to fight you.” She paused, her face screwing up in a frown. “Wait. Why did you tell me to fight you?”

  “Because, Red...” He trailed off, mentally calculating how much he’d have to tell her to convince her he was once of the good guys. “The truth is, I needed it look like we were struggling so I could get you away from the cabin.”

  “What? Why?”

  “If I sit up to explain, are you going to attack me?”

  She offered him a horizontal, poorly executed shrug. “Possibly.”

  He let the chuckle out this time. “All right. I’ll go halfway, then.”

  “Halfway?”

  “Yep. Handcuffs. But no leg shackles.”

  “Um...”

  He slid back with the intention of sitting up while still maintaining his hold on her. Instead, he somehow managed to pull her into his lap. The effect was immediate. Thoughts of why they were there slipped away as Rush tried his damnedest to hold on to them. Why the hell did she fit against him so well? And why did he suddenly feel like instead of giving her an explanation, he was going to give her another kiss?

  * * *

  Alessandra’s body was having an utterly unreasonable reaction to their new position. And it was winning out over the reminders her brain tried to issue.

  Thirty seconds ago, you thought he was going to kill you. Now you’re snuggling up to him because he said that’s not his plan? He hasn’t even told what the real issue is! Stop staring into his pretty brown eyes. Stop thinking about how nice his hands feel, too. And don’t you even start to notice his...er...appreciation of you.

  But Alessandra knew she was already a goner. In spite of logic and reason and adrenaline, the pheromones were going to win. One soft touch of his lips to hers would be all it would take.

  If he leans down...

  But instead, his hand came up to touch her cheek. His knuckles brushed her skin and made her shiver.

  “Red,” he said, his voice thick. “I promise you... I would never hurt you, or let you get hurt.”

  His words should’ve been farcical. But Alessandra just wanted them to be true.

  “How can you say that?” she replied, hearing the need in her own question. “You don’t know me at all. You don’t know my situation.”

  “No. I don’t. But I don’t have to know you to make that promise. I’m one of the good guys, Red.” He stroked her cheek again, then smiled the most stupidly sexy smile she’d ever seen, and added, “For the record, I’d like to know you. And not because I’m tryin
g to extract information from you, either.”

  More unreasonableness licked through Alessandra, and she leaned into his touch. Her gut was nudging her, reminding her that her initial instinct was to trust him. Her brain lost even more ground in its fight against the attraction.

  Never mind that she still didn’t have an explanation for his strange behavior. Never mind that they were on the cool, dirty forest floor, or that Alessandra still had more questions than answers. Her heart was thrumming and her body was buzzing. She tipped her face up and leaned forward, but kept her eyes open, waiting to see if Rush would stop before he started. Or if he would hesitate, another apology on his mind. But he didn’t. He just stared right back at her, want the only thing in his gaze. Then his wrist twisted so that instead of running his knuckles over her cheek, he was cupping it with his palm. He was so close that she could feel the heat of his mouth.

  You might regret this, warned one last voice in Alessandra’s head.

  But she was already sure any hint of regret would be worth it. As Rush’s lids sank shut, hers did, too, and her whole body lit up with anticipation. Then his mouth came down and coherent thought fled to the deepest corners of her mind. Everything else was in the moment. Feeling and doing.

  Rush tasted like heaven. Somehow, the earthy, musky scent that he exuded had managed to make its way into his mouth. It was a flavor that begged to be consumed. Alessandra parted her lips, hoping for more. And he gave it to her. His tongue dipped into her mouth in a firm exploration. She moaned against the attention, then dragged her hands to the back of his head to deepen the kiss even more.

  Rush seemed happy to oblige. He kissed her harder, tasting every corner of her mouth, and his arms snaked around her waist to pull her closer. The motion unbalanced them, and they toppled over.

  Alessandra’s eyes flew open. Rush was flat on the ground, and she was on top of him. Her breasts were pushed against his chest, and her legs were tucked around one of his thighs. It was an undeniably intimate position. A little embarrassed, Alessandra started to pull away. But Rush stopped her. His hands landed on her hips, holding them firmly in place, and his head lifted from the ground to plant another kiss—this one light—on her mouth.

  Embarrassment slipped away, and enthusiasm took its place.

  She pushed her lips harder against his, and his head dropped back. His hands stayed on her hips, but they loosened enough to circle around in a maddening caress. And Alessandra wanted more of him. She shifted so that she was straddling his hips instead of his thigh, and the new position made her desire that much more specific. She wanted all of him. All of Rush. The man she barely knew and whom she was crazy to trust. None of the rationalities made even a slip of difference. The physical need outweighed it all.

  “Alessandra.” The groan of her full name against her mouth made her quiver.

  She was wanting. Needing. Vibrating.

  Her eyes opened as she realized the last bit was more physical than metaphorical. She could see from Rush’s expression that he felt a real-life buzz, too.

  “My damned phone,” he said.

  “Should you get it?” Alessandra breathed.

  “Trust me when I say that I’d rather not.”

  “But you should?”

  “Pretty sure it’s my friend, calling me back. And if I don’t answer, he’ll just keep trying,” he told her regretfully.

  “Damn him,” she said as she sat up and moved back a bit to give him some space. “Whoever he is.”

  Rush chuckled, leaned over to give her a soft, swoon-worthy kiss, then reached into a pocket on the side of his plaid jacket and shot a smoldering look her way as he answered. “Atkinson here.”

  In spite of the two feet between then, Alessandra could still clearly hear the response.

  “Damn, man,” said the man other the other end. “I was getting a bit worried there for a second.”

  “What are you now, Harley? My mother?” Rush said the teasing words with true affection, and it made Alessandra curious. But not quite as curious as the reply.

  “All right then,” the other man—Harley—said. “I’ll just hang up without telling you what I found out about the surveillance system.”

  “Now, see? You should’ve led with that threat.”

  An audible snort carried through the line. “Right. Forgot who I was dealing with.”

  Rush smiled. “Yeah. I’ve always been the smart one.”

  “Oh. So you’re the one who figured out exactly how Garibaldi’s been spying on the cabin, then devised a way to jam it?” Harley asked.

  Alessandra sucked in a sharp breath. Spying? It explained Rush’s need to get out of sight. And it reassured her about where he stood in regard to Jesse. But it also filled her with renewed disquiet. Why was her old friend spying on them? Was it about her or about Rush? She was so distracted by her own unease that she almost completely missed Rush’s friend’s explanation for what he was doing about the situation. Something about relays and interference and being fine for at least a little while.

  She shook her head, trying to bring her attention back to the conversation, sure it would reveal a few more clues as to what was going on. Instead, she got distracted again, because Rush had slightly adjusted his position, and his coat had flapped open. And what Alessandra saw made her have to hold in a gasp. Strapped to his side was a gun.

  He’d been armed the entire time she’d pointed her useless weapon at him. And maybe it should’ve embarrassed her that she didn’t notice it before, even when lying on top of him, but it just flooded her with relief. He truly didn’t mean her any harm. If he did, he could’ve just pulled out his own gun.

  So maybe kissing him wasn’t so unreasonable after all, she thought.

  She flushed as her mind went to just how wantonly she’d engaged in that particular activity. And she could feel her cheeks grow even hotter when she met Rush’s eyes. His gaze was as heated as her face, and Alessandra knew instinctively that he was thinking about their kissing, too. Then he sent her slow wink, and her insides flip-flopped.

  Dammit, Al, she said to herself. Focus!

  “So...” Rush was saying into the phone. “We have a few hours before he even notices that there’s an issue, then?”

  “I’m not going to give you a hundred percent guarantee,” his friend replied, “but I’d eat one of my own sculptures if he caught on that quickly.”

  Alessandra had no idea what the other man meant, but Rush laughed.

  “All right, buddy,” he said. “You go back to your girl and your extended vacation. I’ll pick up the slack.”

  “You know what? I won’t even argue with that. It’s about time you did something on the case. You just call me when you need a technological bailout.”

  Alessandra missed the sign-off. She was too lost in the conclusion that had just popped into her head.

  The gun. The good guy. And the case.

  She brought her gaze up, and she blurted out the idea before she could stop herself. “You’re a cop.”

  Chapter 9

  Rush’s biggest—often only—fear was getting caught in his deception. He rarely worried for his own life in a general sense. Even though the tough, dangerous assignments he took on always posed an explicit threat, he hardly ever thought about it. A stray bullet was a part of the job. Same went for bumping elbows with murderers. Rush had no desire to die in the line of duty, but worrying about it was a rarity. Being made, however, was a different story.

  It’d almost happened once, his second year on the job. He’d been working his way up through a crew, getting in good with the boss. The situation had been harmless enough. He and another lackey were grabbing coffees for the senior guys. A banal task, at best. He’d snagged the latte of the counter, laughed at something his crime buddy said, then turned toward the door, and smacked straight into a dude from high school. A dude who recogni
zed Rush. Called him by name. Then asked if the “thing” with his father ever got sorted out.

  The moment he’d heard the question, sweat-inducing fear had made Rush’s blood run cold, then hot. He’d seen the curiosity on his fellow thug’s face. He’d spied a glimpse into the near future, too. The old classmate wouldn’t take a simple reply. Rush’s new buddy would sense something was amiss, and would push the matter. He’d bring it up in front of their mutual boss. By the end of the week, Rush would be dead. So would the innocent man standing in front of him.

  So he did the only thing he could think to do. He drew back a fist and slammed the other man straight in the face. He’d felt sick about it. Still felt sick about it. It’d had the right effect, though. His old classmate had collapsed. A nearby cop came running in before someone could even dial 911. In minutes, Rush was in the back of a squad car. In under an hour, he was back on the street, his credibility doubled, his boss impressed, his cover story perfectly in place, and a lingering, unsettling fear that it might happen all over again with far less favorable results. The doubt never went away.

  In spite of all that, though, Rush felt nothing but relief at hearing Alessandra connect the dots and call him out. But he still answered carefully, assessing her reaction to his words. Watching for a hint that being a cop wasn’t a good thing.

  “What makes you say that?” he asked, his voice neutral.

  “You’re not denying it?” she replied.

  “Seems to me that a flat-out denial would be an obvious attempt at a cover-up.”

  “You’re not exactly an obvious guy, though, are you?”

  He felt one side of his mouth tip up in a smirk. “I wouldn’t call myself subtle.”