Suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up, he frowned over a series of numbers he'd just punched into an adding machine to his left. Tape still churning, he glanced up. "Miss Kimball?" Matt glanced beyond her, checking for anyone in the hall who could possibly overhear them.
"Mr. Barnes." Glancing once again into the empty hallway, she closed his door.
"Jules— is something wrong?" He rounded the desk, only pausing when he heard her lock it. "Babe— what are you doing?"
Before she could lose her nerve, she crossed the room. "I've been thinking a lot about what you said this morning-" Like the approach of a wild storm, the air suddenly swirled with a charge of electric current.
"You— you have?"
His stuttered words made her smile, breaking the sexual tension. And adding to it. "I have." She slid her arms around his neck. "I think we should do something about it."
A shaking hand slid inside her jacket to her waist. Heat flared in his eyes as he switched off the recorder at her hip. "Though I'd love listening to this later . . . it might be best not to record it."
Swaying into him, she nodded. "You think of everything, don't you?"
"I've been thinking about this." Suddenly hoarse, his voice scratched over her as she loosened his tie. He reached for the buttons on her blouse.
They had to stop for several moments when he took her mouth, making love to her with his tongue. Julie felt ravaged. Need feeding need as she scraped her nails through his hair. Matt groaned as he lifted her in his arms and set her on the edge of his desk.
"Let's review those numbers, shall we?" She nipped his ear, smiling when he shuddered.
"Have a seat, Miss Kimball." The hard wooden surface under her thighs made for a delicious contrast to the warm hands kneading her butt as he slid her skirt higher. Matt's hands were everywhere at once. Stroking her collarbone in a strangely intimate, tender moment. Before they left the hollow of her throat to cup her breasts. "Juliet," he whispered. "You are so . . . beautiful." He rested his forehead against hers for a moment. "That's not even close to the right word. But it's all I can summon just now."
The expression in his eyes made her heart twist, but his words made her smile. "Believe me, beautiful works." Moments later, he'd opened her shirt— her breasts free of all conservative restraint. Though his eyes dilated with passion, Matt smiled. "As you can see— the numbers are quite robust."
When the warmth of his hand was replaced by the wet heat of his tongue, Julie moaned, not caring who might hear them. Her stomach clenched with sensation as he teased her breasts. "Yes— so good."
He paused, knowing it would drive her wild. "The numbers?"
Writhing against him, she tried to strip off her jacket, but only succeeded in trapping her arms in the tight sleeves. "Help me."
Matt shook his head, his smile turning devious. "I don't think so." He watched her flounder against the fabric.
"I want to move," she said, before glancing over his shoulder to the door. "I have too many clothes on," she whispered.
"That could pose a problem." Matt took a step back as though to analyze the situation. Closing the distance, he lifted her hips, succeeding in sliding her skirt up to her waist. "I think I see the situation clearly."
Julie's mouth went dry, harsh breaths parting her lips as she waited. When he slid her panties down, his fingers left a trail of heat down her thighs. She squirmed to get closer. "I need to . . . touch you."
"At the moment, I need this more." Removing his glasses, he handed them to her.
"I wanted you to wear them," she admitted.
He chuckled, remembering Tori's words from earlier in the day. "All in good time, Miss Kimball. Be a love and don't drop them." Moving between her thighs, he pushed her knees apart. His hand grew busy, stroking, teasing. "You feel . . . excited over this quarter's numbers."
His soft words were betrayed by the strain in his voice. She jerked against him, the invasion startling and delicious at the same time. "Not yet, love." The stillness of the room was broken only by his harsh breathing and the soft, gasping moan she could no longer contain.
"Yes . . . please— more."
Matt's smile was one of knowledge. And barely restrained power. When he stroked her again, she convulsed against him. Sealing his mouth to hers, he captured her wondrous cry. He held her for several seconds, easing her languid body back against the desk.
Leaning into his shirt, she breathed in the subtle scent of sandalwood and the heady scent that was strictly Matt. Finally glancing up at him, she caught the glint of humor in his gaze and laughed. She'd never been more exposed . . . to anyone . . . and she'd never been more at ease about it.
"I see I've stunned you with my forecast." Matt stripped off the jacket imprisoning her. His gaze heated as he stared at her breasts, rising and falling with each breathless pant.
Was this real? Wonder in her eyes, Julie pulled him in for a hot, wet kiss. She'd lived too long without this. Without sex. Without joy. Laughter. Fun. It was long past time to make up for her dry spell.
Her stomach clenched with heat as she fumbled with his zipper. "I see you have big news for us this quarter . . . Mr. Barnes." It was her turn to smile when he staggered against her.
"Believe me when I say I'm way past ready to deliver the results."
"Put these back on," she ordered, handing him his glasses as she scooted to the edge of the desk. "Let's see if we can fog them up."
"Yes, ma'am."
Stifling his laughter, Matt quickly complied, staring into her eyes, his— fiery blue and confident. Blazing with passion. For her. Cupping her face in his hands, something in his expression shifted. It was fleeting . . . and wondrous . . . but impossible to focus when her body was clenching him. He whispered against her lips before he kissed her. She opened for him, nearly crazy for release as he pushed into her again . . . this time a slow, heated glide that brought her to the brink of something wonderful.
Matt's harsh groan signaled the end to his control. His mouth against her collarbone, she reveled in the warm slide of his panting breath against her skin. For several minutes, Julie was content to lean against him, slack in his arms. The rattle of a janitor's cart several doors away brought her back to earth.
"I'm racking my brain for a plausible excuse if the cleaning crew opens that door." Matt reluctantly opened his eyes, his forehead resting against hers. "But my brain doesn't want to cooperate yet."
"How is it that you're still fully clothed and I look-"
"Like you just had wild sex on my desk?" He smiled. "An agent can never leave himself unprepared."
His words seemed to have a sobering effect as he turned to adjust his clothes. "We should put you back together."
Suddenly feeling awkward, Julie scrambled with her buttons when he turned away. Realizing her skirt was still up around her waist, she slid from the desk and straightened it. Glancing around, she realized her panties were . . . nowhere to be found. As the rattling cart grew closer, she dismissed trying to find them and prayed Burt, the cleaning guy wouldn't either. "I should . . . go fix my hair."
Matt nodded, his gaze on the door. When he checked his holster, her fear came tumbling back. Matt Barnes wasn't just a hot, sexy business consultant. And they weren't dating. She'd had sex on her desk with a man who could potentially die. Because of her. It was the dousing of icy reality she needed.
She was three steps from the door before he stopped her. "Me first." As though sensing her apprehension, Matt turned her around. "Nothing's changed, Jules." His kiss was meant to reassure . . . and for a brief moment, she let it. Until he reached around her waist and turned the recorder back on. Releasing a sigh, she nodded.
Two minutes later, she was safely inside the ladies room down the darkened hall. The mirror reflected what Julie expected she would find. Hair completely totaled, color high, lips swollen. She re-buttoned her blouse where she'd missed a hole. Only her eyes reflected the worry that had become her constant partner. Matt couldn't . . . die fo
r her. The terrible thought knifed through her. Clutching her ribcage, she released a shaky breath as her eyes filled with tears. She couldn't lose another person she . . . loved. This time, there'd be no recovery from it.
Turning the water on full blast, she prayed Matt's earpiece wouldn't pick up the sound of her crying.
***
His butt aching from jostling on the floor of the panel truck, Matt traveled the tree-lined streets of Boston's elite suburbs, spying on KTec board members. Her headset on, MaryJo monitored the operation from her cockpit in the front seat. Matt had never seen a computer like the one she used. Amazed by the volume of private financial information she was able to glean with a few simple key strokes, if she'd claimed to be hacking NASA to launch a space shuttle, he would've believed her.
"Any activity back there?"
Her whispered question made him double-check the rear window. "Nope. Did Sean find something?"
Blocking her mouthpiece, she said, "he's on his way out."
It was nearly midnight. Part of him hoped Jules would be asleep when he returned. Of course, the rest of him wanted her waiting up for him. Wanted her, period. After eleven years fighting a war on drugs, Matt finally understood addiction. The clawing need for a hit. The willingness to do anything for a brief visit to euphoria. Jules was like a drug he couldn't get enough of. He wanted her any way he could have her.
Since MaryJo had confirmed several board members' bank records held suspicious transactions, teams were hunting down information, all with the hope of narrowing the suspect list. After discovering the treasure trove of real estate transactions, MJ had worked with Finn, cross-referencing Dandridge's bank deposits to known Viper drug shipments. O'Brien had found several cash transactions just under the federal notification limits. The circumstantial evidence was starting to mount, but making it stick would be difficult.
He heard the soft crunch of sand on pavement outside the van. Mullaney had returned. Tossing his black cap on the bench, Sean peeled off his gloves as MaryJo carefully pulled away from the curb.
"Find anything?"
"Nah. He's clean." Mullaney laughed, scratching his salt and pepper crewcut. "Lemme re-phrase that. He's clean as far as KTec goes." He leaned back against the wall. "It takes me about five minutes to figure out their angle. You'd think they'd cover their tracks a little better when they're on the take."
His phone vibrated. It was Finn with a sit-rep. "How's T-Bone?" Mullaney's stare penetrated the murky darkness, waiting for news. Matt gave him a thumbs up. "Great news. What's that about the slug?"
His gaze found Pop as he ended the conversation. "Forensics analyzed the bullets from Jack Stephens."
"Bullets? O'Brien only fired once." Mullaney frowned.
"Someone shot Stephens in the back."
"That's bullshit." He erupted. "Finnie popped him in the chest— I saw it myself."
"Dad, let him finish."
Matt caught MaryJo's glance in the rearview mirror and smiled. "Someone else shot him in the back." He remembered the alley— the person stumbling past.
"Probably his own guys." Mullaney snickered.
"Or he was aiming at Finn." MaryJo's voice drifted back.
Unease skidded through him. "Maybe the shooter was afraid Jack might live."
Mullaney chewed on the possibility. "You think the guy in the alley was there to hit Stephens?"
"It's possible," he said. "Stephens gets fired from the warehouse— where everything is going down. Then all the nuisance calls to Julie— trying to fix it before Viper finds out-"
"Viper decides Stephens is drawing too much attention," MaryJo suggested.
"Combine that with Julie showing up shooting film for the consultants-"
Mullaney looked skeptical. "Maybe Stephens double-crossed him."
MaryJo's brown eyes sparked as she was drawn into the debate. "What if the guy in the alley was Viper?"
"He wouldn't take care of his own hit." The guy in the alley was messy. Careless. "That's what lieutenants are for. Successful cartels are hierarchies."
"Maybe Stephens knew something that made him dangerous."
Matt hid his smile. After a lifetime sparring with her father, MoJo was clearly capable of holding her own.
Mullaney flopped into his seat. "What could he know that would scare a powerful druglord?"
"His identity?" MaryJo's voice broke the silence. "Isn't that the big mystery?"
"Guess we'll never know." Mullaney glowered at his daughter. "We should've hit Dandridge tonight."
"Dad— he's home," she reasoned, "sipping scotch in his library and hoping to get lucky with the bimbo." She smiled. "You're sneaky, but you're not that good."
Matt sighed. Sean's desire to take out Viper before he retired was battling with what remained of his ethics after thirty years in law enforcement.
"You leave that to me. I can afford to do things you kids can't." Mullaney's smile flashed in the gloom.
"Even your political capital doesn't extend to felonies." They were closing in. For anyone else, they'd accumulated enough circumstantial evidence. But not enough for a powerful political figure. "What about the warrant issue?"
"We ain't gonna get a warrant from a sitting judge without hardcore evidence— not against Dandridge. He's too powerful."
"So?"
Mullaney's gaze sobered. "So, we slip in there and see what we find. Hopefully we'll back into the evidence."
"If Dandridge realizes we've been there-" MaryJo interrupted.
Matt caught on to Sean's reasoning. "If he's Viper— he won't want heat."
"And if he ain't Viper— he can complain about his suspicions, but he won't have proof."
"If we don't get caught." While Matt understood the old man's perspective, he was grateful Finn hadn't been privy to their discussion. Or Leo. Careers had been derailed for far less.
"Justify it however you want, kid. I sleep great at night." He grinned. "What about your boss? She ain't gonna like you taking off without her."
"I don't know who's worse." He sighed. "My mother wants to ride shotgun and Julie thinks everything's normal and she should be allowed to go home."
Mullaney chuckled. "Maddie sounds like my kind of woman."
He shook his head in disbelief. "She's trouble, old man."
"Just the way I like 'em."
***
Chapter 14
Julie wandered Madeline's penthouse, admiring the illuminated Boston skyline. She'd spent another evening getting trounced by Matt's mother at high stakes rummy. Thankfully, she'd started yawning after relieving her of only fifty bucks. After counting her winnings, Mrs. Stanhope had called it a night.
Her head spinning with the plans they'd made for the following day, Julie drifted into the guestroom that had become her second home. The last few days had been the most stressful of her life. Each day, she endured the struggles of dragging her business back to profitability while Matt's team assessed her company and employees under a microscope. Her security detail to and from work served to remind her that any moment, something bad could happen. She startled at every noise in the hallway. The microphone clipped to her bra had become second nature in the surreal world she now lived in.
Each evening, she spent quality time with Madeline while Matt abandoned them— for surveillance missions he refused to discuss. The information she gleaned was pieced together with the bits Maddie learned from eavesdropping on Mullaney's crew.
Late at night, Matt returned, hungry for release from the demons driving him. But as passionate as he was in bed, there was no change to the way they communicated. Julie would push for answers and Matt would deflect with nods and maybes and the next day, nothing would have changed. The tender, thoughtful lover morphed into the closed-off, business-like cop she dealt with each day at work.
There'd been no repeat performances on the desk in his office. It hadn't helped when she'd finally remembered they'd forgotten to use a condom. Floored, she acknowledged a burst of happine
ss. With all the crazy ugliness surrounding them . . . an unplanned pregnancy seemed almost anticlimactic. But a strange expression had crossed Matt's features when she reminded him later that night. One that suggested . . . maybe he felt differently. Since then, he hadn't forgotten a single time.
Tonight, he'd ditched her again. Fuming over his dismissal, she and Madeline had hunkered down over a pot of tea to vent. Hours later, venting had morphed into planning. Julie was still perched on the couch, riveted by the wealth of information pouring from the older woman. Matt's mother knew intimate details about half of Boston's elite. And what she didn't know personally was only a discreet phone call away.
Julie was most interested in Ray Dandridge. She knew from overheard conversations that Matt tracked his movement— his finances and connections. Maddie's recon with Sean Mullaney had confirmed the same information. When Dandridge had stopped by again today, she'd learned of his plans to be out of town the next day. Mentioned in passing, Julie's mistake had been relaying that information to Maddie.
The older woman insisted it was a perfect opportunity to do a little recon. Julie was torn. She knew it was information she should turn over to Matt— especially the crazy part. Maddie's plan to bust out of their penthouse prison. But she couldn't shake her disappointment that Agent Barnes' information highway only ran one-way. After working side by side for days, she was no closer to learning what Matt was doing. Was she still a target? Were they close to making an arrest?
Perhaps Madeline was right. Tomorrow, they would perform a little reconnaissance of their own. Her mind too busy to sleep, Julie drifted to the window, giving in to the edgy need for movement. Keeping to the shadows, she stared out at the night sky, her jumbled thoughts returning to the man she'd fallen in love with.
Out of the Mist (Can't Help Falling Book 1) Page 24
