Protective Custody

by Debra Webb

  Nicole seemed certain that this was the work of one man, someone who knew about Solomon. That conclusion didn’t sit quite right with Ian. If their enemy was someone inside the bureau, then what did he hope to gain by killing Solomon? Would there be a payoff from the cartel? That sounded the most reasonable and probable to Ian. Whoever was behind this scheme had strong motivation. Ian frowned when he considered that a scumbag like Solomon had warranted a blackout operation. Sure, the man was a major witness in a high-profile federal case, but Ian had seen plenty of others in his time. Solomon was the first in Ian’s experience to garner such special treatment. And there was that little detail—the bureau had personally handled his case rather than inducting Solomon into the program through regular channels. Ian wasn’t naive, though. He knew that too often cases weren’t handled by the book, especially those over which the FBI wanted to retain absolute control. Perhaps it was a mere coincidence that Landon worked this special operation, then wound up dead, along with one of the only two other agents involved, but Ian doubted it. Coincidences of this nature were rare.

  With Landon and Daniels dead and Nicole on the run, that meant that someone privy to Landon’s original decision was behind this little game of cat and mouse. Ian’s frown deepened, setting off an ache in his temples. He didn’t like the sound of that at all. The only office with the authority to give Landon the kind of leeway he had taken was the attorney general’s. Ian knew personally, or at the very least by reputation, most of the people in that office. He found it difficult to believe that one of them would stoop to working for the cartel.

  But it wasn’t an impossibility, he admitted.

  The bathroom door opened again and Ian stiffened. The scent of shampoo and soap quickly permeated every square inch of air in the suddenly too-small hotel room. Images flashed before Ian’s eyes like scenes from a movie on fast-forward. Touching Nicole’s skin. Kissing her full mouth. Licking, then suckling the dusky peaks of her breasts. Being inside her…

  “Did you order any food?”

  Ian grabbed back control and turned slowly to face her. She lingered near the bathroom door, keeping her distance. Her damp blond hair hung around her shoulders. The too-big shirt clung here and there to her warm, moist body where she had missed a spot or two with her towel. The black contrasted sharply with her porcelain skin. Ian swallowed hard as his gaze fell to those long, slender legs. She shifted under his perusal and his gaze shot up to meet her assessing blue eyes.

  “Yes,” he replied so calmly that he surprised himself. “Steak-Out. It should arrive soon.” Ian turned back to the bed and picked up the small first-aid kit.

  Before he realized she had moved, Nicole was right beside him, assessing the injury to his shoulder. Only Nicole could get this close to him undetected.

  “Damn,” she breathed. “I forgot about this.” With warm, gentle fingers she touched his shoulder. She winced. “Let me see what’s in that kit.”

  Nicole relieved Ian of the first-aid kit and ushered him to a chair. She placed the small plastic container on the nearby dresser and opened it. Lines of frustration creased Ian’s brow as she picked through the limited options available. Nicole stood mere inches from him, her thigh against him. This close, he could see the outline of her breasts, the budded points of her nipples. His pulse reacted.

  “I can take care of this myself,” he protested, however belatedly.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Ian,” she argued while continuing to prowl through the kit.

  Ian looked up at her, pinning her with his most intimidating glare. “I would prefer—”

  “Be still,” she ordered. Nicole edged even closer then as she turned her attention to his shoulder.

  Ian tensed when those soft fingers touched his bare skin once more. First, she swabbed the wound with what he assumed to be an antibiotic cream or lotion. Ian gritted his teeth when pain speared through his arm. At least the pain drew his attention from those other thoughts. The ones he knew he shouldn’t be thinking.

  “I’m sorry,” Nicole murmured, her face entirely too near to his. “I’m trying not to hurt you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Nicole arranged then taped the gauze into place. Her delicate scent and the feel of her fingers on his skin tugged at Ian’s senses. He wanted to turn toward her and pull her onto his lap. Onto the arousal already straining against his slacks. His hands tightened on the arms of his chair. Her thigh grazed his fingertips, fire shot through his veins, twisting the desire already knotted inside him.

  “There,” she announced as she stepped back to view her effort. “It’s not my best work, but, considering what I had to work with, it’ll do.”

  “It’s fine.” Ian stood and brushed past her.

  “You’re welcome,” Nicole snapped.

  Ian closed his bag and strode to the closet to store it. “Thank you,” he allowed impatiently.

  Nicole huffed a frustrated breath. “This isn’t going to work,” she announced crossly. “We can’t keep tiptoeing around each other like this.”

  Ian leaned against the wall next to the closet, using his good shoulder for support. “What do you propose we do?” he asked, sarcasm weighting his tone.

  Her hands went to her hips and she advanced on him. “We can’t work together if every time we look at each other or touch each other, we have flashbacks from the past.”

  “Agreed.” Ian starred down into that irritated blue gaze. “We can go back to plan A.”

  “Plan A?” Nicole frowned.

  “You holed up in a safe house with Martinez while I get to the bottom of what’s going on.”

  Fury flashed in those baby blues. “No way.”

  “Then I would suggest that you keep your distance.”

  The anger in her eyes turned patronizing. “That’s going to be a bit difficult considering there’s only one bed, Mr. Charm-the-receptionist.”

  Ian stared at the bed. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Every night he and Nicole had spent together had been spent in a shared bed. The notion of requesting two beds had not entered his mind. Ian swore silently. His gaze connected with her now-triumphant one. “It’s a big bed, Nicole. I don’t have a problem, do you?”

  “Absolutely not.” She smiled knowingly. “But then, how would you know if I did?” One brow arched in challenge. “And we both know you can’t always hide what you’re feeling.”

  Ian felt that muscle in his jaw begin to tic. “I’m beginning to agree with you, Nicole. Perhaps this isn’t going to work.”

  She blinked, twice. Ian almost smiled. Now he had her attention.

  “Do you want to hear plan B or not?” he inquired, satisfied that he had won that round.

  Nicole dropped wearily onto the end of the bed. “You know I do,” she said disgustedly.

  “Good.” Ian turned his back on her and strode to the chair he had been sitting in minutes before. He remained silent a full minute for good measure. Nicole squirmed visibly. He smiled then, just a little.

  “Solomon is the most probable target,” he began. “I would hazard a guess that the cartel is willing to pay a handsome sum for his termination.”

  “That’s my theory.” Nicole shoved a handful of hair behind her ear. “Since the only case of this caliber that Landon, Daniels and I have in common is Solomon’s, I would say that’s a safe assumption.”

  Ian thought for a moment, recalling the most prominent personnel in the AG’s office. “Landon never once mentioned the name of the person who coordinated Solomon’s case on the attorney-general’s end?”

  Nicole shook her head. “No.” She shrugged. “And I didn’t ask. You know the drill—need-to-know basis only.”

  Ian nodded. He knew the drill all right. But someone had to give that order. Ian would just have to tweak his old contacts and see what he could shake loose.

  “There was one thing,” Nicole said suddenly as if just remembering a significant piece of the puzzle.

  “What’s that?”

&nbs
p; “Landon said that the order came from the highest level.” Nicole chewed her lower lip. “Do you think that means what it sounds like it means?”

  That would mean the attorney general himself, in Ian’s opinion. Ian had known Blake Edwards half a lifetime. Blake had been something of a legend in the U.S. Marshal Service as far back as when Ian had first signed on. There had never once been even the vaguest of accusations against the man. He was squeaky clean. Always had been.

  Ian scrubbed a hand over his face noting in some distant part of his consciousness that he needed a shave. “Anything is possible.” He resisted the urge to protest. No one was immune to falling prey to the lure of money. And this was most certainly about money.

  “If it goes that high, how do we get the guy’s attention? He could be a G-man or he could be a hired gun.”

  “He’s on the inside,” Ian insisted. “He knows too much.” Ian didn’t buy the hired-gun theory at all. This guy was a pro, and he knew far too much about Nicole’s every move to be working on the outside. “If we go with the scenario that it’s all about Solomon and someone’s desire to find him,” Ian began. “Then all we have to do is set a trap and wait for the bait to be taken.”

  Nicole settled a determined gaze on Ian. “To make the trap work you have to have the right kind of bait.”

  Ian shook his head slowly from side to side. “We’re not going there, Nicole. Don’t even think about it.” He knew exactly what she had in mind. No way would he allow her to be the bait. He would find another way.

  Nicole stood, placed her hands on her hips again and glared at him with the kind of determination that Ian knew wouldn’t be easily swayed. “Landon was my director and Daniels was my fellow agent. Solomon is my witness. I will do this.”

  “No.” Ian allowed his eyes to convey his own determination.

  Nicole cocked her head and pinned him with a look that spoke of having an ace up her sleeve. “Since I’m the only one who knows Solomon’s location, then I don’t see that you have a choice.”

  Ian’s lips twitched with the need to smile, but he suppressed the gesture. Nicole was good…too good. “I suppose you have a point there.”

  “You’re darn right I do.” Nicole plopped back onto the end of the bed. “Now, let’s talk about that trap.”

  “Remember I’m sending Martinez to keep Solomon company so he doesn’t panic,” Ian reminded her. “All I need is the location. Then we need some out-of-the-way place to hole up for a few days.”

  Nicole’s expression brightened. “I know just the place,” she said quickly. “My cousin has a cabin in the southern part of the state. It’s secluded, but not too far from civilization.”

  “Then we leave first thing in the morning,” Ian concluded.

  “We’ll leave a trail any fool could follow,” Nicole added, the plan already taking shape in her head. “And with Labor Day weekend starting tomorrow, maybe our guy will think we took a little vacation.”

  Ian did smile then. “Or a lover’s tryst,” he offered.

  Nicole looked startled. “What are you suggesting?” she asked hesitantly, but Ian didn’t miss the flicker of something like desire in her eyes.

  Ian shrugged his one good shoulder. “If the guy knows our history, which he likely does, then falling back into each other’s arms would be within the realm of predictability. If he thinks we’re caught up in our lust, maybe he’ll feel a little braver and make a bolder move out in the open.”

  Nicole’s smile returned full wattage. “You’re a genius, Michaels. Let’s call Martinez now.”

  Now if only Ian could pretend his suggestion wasn’t so close to the truth.

  Chapter Five

  Awareness came in slow, languid degrees for Ian. It was a creeping, swelling warmth that excited and weakened him at the same time. The next level of consciousness to filter through the cloak of sleep heightened his senses. The feel of smooth, satiny skin against his, the pleasant swell of firm breast in his palm, and the moist heat scorching his thigh. Ian inhaled deeply, savoring the subtle essence of Nicole before he released the breath. Slowly, very slowly, Ian opened his eyes. The exquisite detail of Nicole’s perfect profile, the delicately carved bone structure, her full, lush mouth zoomed into focus. The fragile curve of her throat was so very near to his lips. He ached to touch her there with his mouth, to taste that elegant column with the tip of his tongue. The desire to move against her was a pleasure-pain in his loins.

  While he lay there watching her, the blood thudding in his ears, Nicole’s eyes drifted open. She blinked rapidly, her mind likely sorting and analyzing the flood of sensations washing over her senses as her own awareness kicked in. Nicole tensed, her responsive body no longer pliant beneath his. Ian was fully and painfully erect. With his arousal pressed against her belly, her sudden tension sent another stab of desire through him. Nicole’s warning that Ian could not always hide what he felt echoed harshly inside his head. Instantly, irritation absorbed all else. Ian rolled away from her, sat up, then pushed to his feet without pause. He would not give her any additional satisfaction.

  “Good morning,” he tossed over his shoulder as he strode into the bathroom. Ian closed the door without waiting for her response. He swore hotly, repeatedly, something he rarely did. He plowed his fingers through his hair and forced himself to relax enough to take care of business. Maybe he couldn’t always hide how he responded to Nicole. But one thing was certain, his condition this morning could just as easily be attributed to other biological urges. Except, Ian amended reluctantly, for the accelerated beating of his heart.

  Long minutes passed before Ian regained complete control. No one but Nicole had ever wielded this much power over him. Somehow he had to find a way to numb himself to her presence.

  Ian released a long, heavy breath. Remaining focused was the key. He had to keep his full attention on the matter at hand. Martinez was baby-sitting Solomon. Alexandra Preston, one of the Colby Agency’s finest researchers, was pulling together updates on every member of the cartel Solomon’s testimony had brought down or affected negatively. That left Ian and Nicole with the job of drawing out the hitman, hired gun or player, who seemed to have a penchant for blowing things up.

  Ian stared at his reflection in the mirror. He needed a shower and a shave. And clothes. The hotel employee had assured him that their clothes would be ready first thing this morning. Maybe he should buzz the front desk and see if they were there waiting for delivery. Then, he and Nicole could be on their way. Composed now, Ian turned toward the door, but something in his peripheral vision brought him up short. His gaze shot back to the towel bar near the tub. Scant, lacy pink panties, and the matching frilly bra captured his full attention just long enough to suck the air completely out of his lungs.

  A full ten minutes passed before Ian came back into the room. Nicole averted her gaze immediately, feigning interest in the channels she continued to surf. But the image of his bare chest, broad shoulders and taut abdomen were forever emblazoned on her memory. The way his dark hair curled around his neck. She shivered.

  Ian paused at the bedside table, which was covered with the now-dry contents of his wallet, and picked up the telephone’s receiver. Nicole used that opportunity to escape into the bathroom. She closed the door and sagged against it. She squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled a shaky breath. Even now her body hummed with the slowly retreating desire. Waking up with the feel of Ian’s lean, hard body crushing into hers, his palm and long fingers cradling her breast, and his firm lips so frustratingly close to her sensitized skin, Nicole had almost burst into flames. Her whole body had been steaming hot, ready to absorb him right through her skin.

  Nicole straightened and glanced at herself in the mirror. The telltale flush of sensual heat lingered on her skin. The expression in her eyes was nothing short of wild and needy. Nicole closed her eyes again and concentrated on calming the wanton beast still roaring inside her. The sound of Ian’s voice, all tone and no words, reached her, touched her
through the useless barrier of the wall and brought her blood back to an instant simmer. Nicole pivoted abruptly and paced the tiny room, three steps one way, and three steps back. Again and again she retraced her two-yard path. Calm. Reach for the calm, she commanded herself. She would control her reactions to Ian. Somehow. She had to.

  She was homeless. A target running for her life and Solomon’s. She had to think, reason, and take the necessary steps to ensure Solomon’s safety, as well as her own. Her breath snagged in her throat at the abrupt memory of Ian’s too-close encounter with a bullet. Nicole had to see that he stayed safe too. She had dragged him into this mess, and she would have to see that his insistence on helping her didn’t get him killed. She shuddered at the thought, then quickly blocked it.

  “Nicole.”

  She jumped, then turned to face the closed door. She had to pull herself together. “Yes,” she managed as she threaded her fingers into her hair and massaged her tense scalp.

  “I have your clothes. When you’re finished in there I’d like to shower,” he said, in that voice that melted her fledgling resolve not to be affected by him.

  The unbidden image of Ian naked, with water sluicing over his powerful body rocked Nicole to the core. “Fine,” she said curtly, then gritted her teeth so hard that her jaw ached. She knew too many techniques for maintaining control to allow this sort of distraction. It was past time she took charge. Whatever had once been between the two of them was no more. That fleeting connection had been under false pretense in the first place, and Nicole’s subsequent betrayal had severed the bond forever. All that remained was physical attraction, lust borne of familiarity. Nothing else. When this was over, assuming either of them survived, she and Ian would go their separate ways.

  End of story.

  Forcing away any further thought of Ian, Nicole turned her attention to essential functions. She washed her hands and face, then rinsed her mouth with the complimentary small bottle of mouthwash. It wasn’t quite the same as brushing her teeth, but it would have to do until she could purchase a few personal items. While she finger-combed her hair, Nicole made a mental list of items she would need to purchase for the weekend. Filing insurance claims, finding a new apartment and starting over from scratch would simply have to wait until later.