by Cara Summers
She waved a hand. “He also wants this. He wants us to react, panic. Spin our wheels. If we decide to bring someone else in to bodyguard you, maybe bring in more protection for me, we’re not totally focused on finding him.”
“Dammit.” Jonah sighed. “You could be right.”
“Yeah. Look what happened after we discovered the bomb. No, he didn’t succeed in blowing my car up, but the distraction still worked. I pulled Mark and David in to help protect you. They’re the two best men I have and I kept them with us babysitting all day.”
Jonah glanced at the green box. “If we’d opened that before we left the St. Francis, I wouldn’t have let you send Gibbons and Santos off.”
She followed the direction of his gaze. “Thank God for my attack of paranoia. But that note is still deflecting us. Everything he’s done so far has split our attention. Hiring Mickey P. and Lorenzo to rough you up in the alley makes more sense now. He wanted you to bodyguard up.”
“He didn’t want them to get arrested.”
“No. But then he delivers the second note to the police station and arranges for Tank to install the car bomb. All that directs our attention away from finding him. Whoever this guy is, he bounces back and he’s not at a loss for ideas. He’ll have other things up his sleeve.”
Jonah took her hand, linked his fingers with hers. “We’ll handle them, and we’ll figure out who he is. Tonight, I’ll try my hand at tracing my father.”
She squeezed his fingers as something tightened around her heart. “It may be a wild-goose chase.”
“Maybe it’s time we went on a few.” He met her eyes. “I’m not sending you away.”
“Waste of time. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m not forgetting that the number on your note was one. I don’t intend to lose my partner.”
“Remember that the next time you try to dump me, ace.”
He laughed, then leaned in closer. “I also remember that we agreed to take a break after we opened the gift.”
She placed a hand on his chest. “And I know exactly what you had in mind, but the clock is ticking here.”
“Oh, I can be fast. Let me show you.”
The thought of it sent a hot thrill right to her core. But his mouth was slow and soft as he brushed it over hers, and she couldn’t prevent the sound that escaped.
“There’s a practical side of you that thinks we should go back to Pleasures so that I can get started on tracing my father. I’m attracted to that part of you.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “I think of her as Priscilla. She wants to pull out her cell and check in with Gibbons and Santos.” He kissed the other corner of her mouth.
Each time his mouth made contact, every pore in her body yearned.
“Then she’ll want to touch base with Finelli.” His teeth scraped along her jawline. “Then update Gabe. Have I left anything off Priscilla’s list?”
She wasn’t sure because every time his lips brushed hers, more of her thoughts faded.
“But I’m also attracted to the other side of you, the Cilla part. She isn’t afraid to throw that to-do list away and risk everything for the moment. It was Cilla I found in the hotel bar in Denver. You’re both of those women. I want you. Let me show you how much.”
He whispered the words against her lips, the same words he’d said that night after he’d closed the hotel door.
“It’s not that simple anymore.” But her hand fisted his shirt.
“Then let’s see where complicated takes us.”
His mouth covered hers. Not softly this time. But she didn’t want soft. There was nothing seductive about the way he was kissing her now. But she didn’t want seduction.
She just wanted him.
“Touch me.” She got the words out this time. Or he read her mind. For one wild moment, his hands seemed to be everywhere, inciting, arousing. In one fluid movement he had her out of her jacket and he pulled the sweater over her head. It might be cold outside, but she was suddenly plunged into hot, drenching summer. And she wanted to simply drown in it. He shifted her, then slid to his knees between hers to deal with her boots and slacks.
Shrugging out of his jacket, he brought his mouth back to hers, hot and greedy. She tasted hunger and desperation, but she wasn’t sure whether it came from him or her.
And it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
She jerked his turtleneck free of his jeans and together they dragged it over his head. But before she could get her hands on him the way she’d imagined doing at Interludes, he gripped her hips and pulled her to the floor. Finally, his hands were on her bare skin, demanding, exploring, finding new pleasure points, rediscovering old ones. Wave after wave of pleasure washed through her until she knew only him—the taste, the feel, the smell of him.
Her heart had never beat this fast. Not even in that hotel room. And it still wasn’t enough. She rolled, pushing him back into the soft carpet so that she could press kisses, quick and hungry, over his face, his neck, his chest. Everywhere.
Then he shifted, bringing his mouth to hers, and they rolled again.
More was all she could think.
More.
After a month of remembering, fantasizing, Jonah couldn’t stifle his hunger. Nor could he seem to satisfy it. He simply had to touch and mold every inch of her with his hands, his mouth. Each separate sensation hammered through his blood and burned through his brain.
Her skin was softer than he’d remembered. It seemed to flow and then burn beneath his fingers. Her slender body enchanted him. Would he ever get enough of those long lean lines, the taut and ready strength, the delicate give of curves? They’d haunted his dreams for so many long silent nights.
Shifting, he pinned her against the side of the banquette and ran his hand up those slim thighs. She still wore her panties. He toyed with the edge. Lace. And he recalled the lace she’d worn on that long-ago night.
“Look at me, Cilla.”
She did. They were eye to eye, and he could see himself in the cloudy green depths. He skimmed a finger beneath the lace. “I’m going to make you come, and then I’ll make you come again. Tell me that’s what you want.”
She twined her arms around his neck. “Yes. That’s what I want. I want you.”
He slid a finger into her and then studied her face, watched the pleasure build in her eyes as his pulse beat in wild drumbeats. When he felt her crest, when he was sure she thought only of him, knew only the pleasure he was giving her, he shifted and rose to his knees to shove down his jeans and deal with the condom.
“Cilla.”
She opened her eyes and that’s all he could see—just the dark glint of them—as he lowered himself over her.
“Again,” she whispered.
He entered her. As she closed around him hot and tight, the thought seared into his mind—she was everything. Everything he wanted. Then even that thought shattered as his control snapped.
The moment he began to move, Cilla gasped his name. The pleasure he’d already given her flashed to frenzy as he pounded into her with fast, powerful thrusts. Lost, unbearably thrilled, she matched him beat for beat. As new sensations tore through her, she raked her nails down his back and dug them into his hips, urging him on. This time, the orgasm built fast and ripped through her, filled her, and then seemed to empty her out.
She wasn’t sure how long they lay there on the floor of the limo while her mind swam back to reality. But gradually she could absorb details—the hum of the motor, the muffled sounds of traffic. But she was also aware of the rapid beating of his heart against hers, his hair brushing her cheek.
And one of them had to break the silence. Bring reality fully into focus. “Did we just make love or war?”
She felt the curve of his mouth against her cheek. “I don’t care what we call it. I want to do it again.”
“Yeah.” And as she felt him harden inside of her, she was outrageously tempted.
Then her cell phone rang. He rolled off her and took
it out of her jacket. She frowned when she saw the caller ID and put it to her ear. “It’s my apartment manager.”
“Ms. Michaels?” The voice held annoyance.
Sitting up, Cilla held the phone so Jonah could hear. “Mrs. Ortiz, what is it?”
“Mr. Linderman called me to complain about the noise in your apartment. First, there was a loud crash, and now your music system is playing at full blast. I’m knocking on your door right now. Could you please turn it down?”
“I’m not in my apartment right now.”
“Then who is making all that noise?”
“Good question,” Jonah murmured as he gathered her clothes.
“I’m on my way.” First, she hit the intercom button to give T.D. her address. “Fast as you can legally make it.”
“I’ll engage the rockets,” T.D. said with a laugh.
“Our note sender may have broken into your apartment,” Jonah said.
Mind racing, Cilla pulled on her sweater and slacks. “And then turned up my sound system to call attention to himself? More likely Flash did it.”
“Flash?”
She grabbed her boots. “My cat. I call her that because when she wants to, she moves like lightning. She’s not strictly speaking an alley cat, but close. When I moved in, she was living on the fire escape outside my apartment. I saw her through my living room window the day I moved in and made the mistake of feeding her. Next time I opened the window to the fire escape, she shot in. And stayed.”
“And Flash knows how to operate your sound system?”
“She’s learned exactly what button to push on the remote. She usually does it to get my attention when I’m working.”
She joined him on the seat and did what she could to finger comb her hair. “I would have had to swing by the apartment anyway to pick up some clothes—for tomorrow and that fancy, schmancy thing of yours tomorrow night. And I’ll fill Flash’s dishes and lock up the remote. She’ll be pissed, but at least Mr. Linderman and Mrs. Ortiz won’t be.”
Jonah laughed, slipping his arm around her and pulling her in for a quick hug. “Welcome back, Priscilla.”
T.D. OPENED THE LIMOUSINE door, “Welcome to The Manderly Apartments.” Cilla got out first and scanned the street.
“Clear,” she said. Then she turned to T.D. “I know we weren’t followed, but keep an eye out, will you? I’ve got you on speed dial, but call me on my cell if anyone comes into the building—even if it looks like they have a key.”
“I got your back, sugar,” T.D. said.
Jonah climbed out and took his own scan of the street. The night sky was clear enough to allow a quarter moon to wink through. Streetlights offered enough illumination for Jonah to realize that the neighborhood seemed familiar to him. The eclectic mix of architecture ranged from a church built along contemporary lines to an art deco building housing a bank and other shops.
But it wasn’t until he swept his gaze over The Manderly Arms with its gothic architecture that the memory fully clicked. He’d taken morning runs right past the place. He even knew where the fire escape was—on the back corner of the building.
“Creepy place,” he said as they walked toward the entrance. “Reminds me of that New York City apartment building in Rosemary’s Baby.”
“Wrong movie. Wait until you meet Mrs. Ortiz. She’s a dead ringer for Mrs. Danvers in Rebecca.”
He opened the front door, but he preceded her into the building, then stepped aside so that she could unlock the second door.
“How long have you lived here?” he asked.
“Since I moved back to San Francisco.”
All those long nights when he’d stood at his window thinking of her, wanting her, she’d been only walking distance away. If he’d known, would he have climbed that fire escape?
Wasted time, he thought. And what if neither of them had much left to waste?
The lobby was a round, airy space with a circular staircase that rose to the second floor. A plump woman with steel-gray hair pulled back into a tight ballerina bun waited at the foot of it. She wore a black dress with a stiffly starched white apron over it. Her arms were folded, her expression disapproving.
“The music has stopped,” she said. “But I want you to know that it was loud enough to hear all the way down here. It was playing ‘We Need a Little Christmas.’”
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know how it happened.” Cilla waved a hand in the air as she moved past the woman and started up the stairs. “Probably a short in the electrical circuit. I’ll unplug it until I can have it fixed.”
As they rounded the first landing, Jonah saw Mrs. Ortiz was still frowning, and she was pointing one finger accusingly.
“I tried my master key,” she called after them. “It doesn’t work. You changed the lock. So I need a copy of your key,” she said. “If I’d had one, I could have turned the music off myself.”
“I’ll get you one,” Cilla called back. “Promise.”
The loud humph followed them up the stairs.
Jonah spoke in a low voice. “You changed the lock on your apartment?”
“Pets aren’t allowed.”
His brows shot up. “You could move. There are pet-friendly places in San Francisco.”
“I could move, but would Flash? Since she’s never even let me pick her up, that could be a problem.”
At the top of the stairs, she led the way down a hallway so dimly lit that he could see slits of light spilling out from beneath closed doors. Only the murmur of TV shows marred the silence. At the last door, she stopped and pulled out her key. It was half an inch from the lock when she turned to him and held a finger to her lips.
She didn’t have to tell him that she’d gotten one of her feelings, because he’d gotten it, too. Cold air pushed into the hall from beneath the door. Gesturing him to one side, she turned the key in the lock, then stepped to the other side and took out her gun.
She met his eyes, mouthed the word Stay, and then used her foot to open the door. He swept his gaze over the room as she fanned it with her gun. It was empty, but one of the panes on the window had been smashed, and a chubby-looking cat sat on the fire escape looking in.
Cilla, holding her gun in both hands, moved into the room. The feeling he’d had in the hall grew stronger, a hard clenching in his gut.
“Cilla?”
“Stay back until I check the kitchen and bedroom.”
No way. He stepped through the doorway and caught a blur of movement before something slammed against his head and lights starred behind his eyes. He had a dizzying impression of the floor speeding toward him before there was nothing but black.
13
CILLA WHIRLED AT THE SOUND and saw that a large muscle-bound man had a gun pointed at Jonah’s head.
His eyes were cold and very steady on hers. “Set your gun down easy, or I’ll put a bullet in his brain.”
“No problem.” Very slowly, she lowered her weapon and squatted to set it on the floor as she took his measure. Early fifties, she thought. Gray hair cropped short. Both details matched the grainy images on the security tapes. His boots were scuffed, his jeans and the leather bomber jacket well-worn, but she bet the body beneath the clothes was well-toned. And there was a silencer on his gun.
At the edge of her vision, she saw blood blossom on the side of Jonah’s head, but she pushed down on the flood of emotions that threatened and kept her voice very cool. “You’re the man who drove the van last night at Pleasures and planted a bomb under my car.”
“You’re the woman who interfered with my mission.”
There was temper in his tone. She might be able to use that. But he still had his gun pointed at Jonah’s head. She had to get his attention and the weapon focused on her. So she laughed. “And your mission was?”
“That’s for me to know.”
“Where’d you hire those two goons you brought along? At ‘Thugs R Us’?”
“Shut up,” he said, swinging the barrel of the gun toward
her. “I’ve already taken enough crap about that.”
More temper, but this time it wasn’t entirely aimed at her. She shifted to the balls of her feet, gauging the distance between them. She had to get closer if she was going to disarm him. “I imagine your boss was really pissed.”
The man frowned. “He’s not my boss. We’re partners.”
“A partner who sends you out on missions and lets you take all the risks?” She edged a step closer.
“Stop right there. I didn’t come here to chat. You and I are going to take a little ride.”
Even better, she thought as she took a step toward the door. If she could get him down to T.D.
“Not that way. You think I don’t know you got a couple of agents out there waiting? I saw them following you earlier today. But I knew you’d have to come back here eventually.”
Keep him talking, she decided. “And today’s goal is to get me? Was that your decision or your partner’s?”
“Mutual. Someone interferes with my mission, they pay.”
“So you decided to enjoy some Christmas music while you waited?”
“Damn cat! I would have killed her but she was too fast.”
He gestured with the gun. “We’re going out the fire escape and right into my van. You first.”
Turning, she walked toward the window and opened it. The faster she got him away from Jonah, the better. Then she’d make her move. As she climbed out, she caught a glimpse of Flash on the level above them. Dropping her gaze, she gauged the distance to the cement floor of the alley. Too far to drop.
Then Tank was right there with her on the fire escape. “We’re going down to the alley nice and slow. Try any of your tricks, like kicking the gun out of my hand, and I’ll toss you off this thing.”
She didn’t doubt he’d try. Her mind racing, Cilla gripped the railing and started down the first flight of stairs. They creaked and swayed a little beneath her weight. The farther she could get him away from her apartment, the better. But she didn’t like the idea of waiting to make a move until they reached the alley. Her chances of distracting him and taking him on the fire escape might be better.
