by Cherry Adair
"Hell, yeah. I'll do that. What the hell? Two hundred and fifty G's? You son of a bitch. Yesterday we agreed on a hundred thou—" Tense pause as the other man spoke. "Yeah," Jake said through gritted teeth, "she is. Half on pickup, the balance on her safe delivery in Sacramento."
The man was stupid enough to blackmail Jake Dolan? Marnie pitied the man when he and Jake met. A quarter of a million dollars was an incredible amount of money to pay for an hour-long helicopter ride.
A tiny, terrified part of her was relieved that she'd have access to her meds soon. The rest of her ached mournfully to be leaving.
Looking into his eyes, she traced the tender bottom curve of his lip. His strong white teeth nipped at her finger, and just a rim of blue showed around his black pupils as his gaze held hers.
"You have the coordinates? I'll expect you within the hour. Be prepared to lift off immediately."
Marnie closed her eyes at the exquisite sensation of Jake's cool hand on her superheated flesh. He measured her breasts, weighing each one in his cupped hand, and then tormented her by skimming each nipple with his thumb.
Her back arched as she leaned forward. In their last hour together she wanted Jake's undivided attention. She wanted to remember these last moments together. She wanted to imprint him into her DNA. She wanted to rub him with her scent so no matter what, he could never forget her.
Her lips found the pulse pounding at the base of his neck. Hers throbbed even faster. Her hands skimmed down his biceps and she looked up at him, knowing her heart was in her eyes.
Jake gave her a smoldering look, turning the phone so the mouthpiece was above his head, wrapped his free arm around her, and pulled her into his chest. He kissed her hard, his teeth sharp as he nibbled at her lower lip. His tongue laved away the small pain.
His large hand was on the back of her neck, under her hair. He squeezed once and tilted the phone back to his mouth. "We'll be waiting." Pause. "Bring your logbook with you." Jake's smile was slow, and she could hear the other voice spluttering through the phone. "For a quarter mil, I have every right to see it." With a flick of his finger he disconnected, then tossed the phone on the bedside table with a clatter.
"The forecast is for a mother of a storm," he whispered against her mouth.
"How do I get you out of this?" she demanded. He peeled his top off like a stripper on speed. "Oh, thank you. The river isn't going down," she whispered against his furred chest, inhaling the unique fragrance of his skin.
"Not for days." He tugged off his pants. "We don't have days. You need your medication. With you here, I'm on the defensive. They know that. This has to be over. And soon. The chopper's coming to lift you out."
"I heard you. Within the hour."
One hour. That was all they had left. Sixty miserable minutes. His naked weight slid over her body. Marnie parted her thighs in eager acceptance. She locked her ankles over his, fitting her curves to his hollows, her softness to his hardness, pelvises locked together as they rocked slowly.
"You feel so good, so good." Her breasts slid against his chest. Too sensitive. Too exquisite a sensation. She cried out softly, burying her face against his arched throat. Kissing the scar there. Praying for more, and satisfied with less.
This time their lovemaking was silent. Solemn. Heartbreaking.
They left via the mine shaft tunnel. The chopper would be landing in a small clearing north of the exit. Jake helped her across the rocks and down the other side. As soon as they cleared the obstacles, he dropped her hand, filling his instead with a nasty-looking gun.
It was broad daylight, and perversely the sun had decided to shine. Despite the afternoon brightness, it was icy cold and she hunched her ears into the collar of her jacket. In her right pocket she had one of Jake's athletic socks. She'd dropped a dozen bullets into the toe, then tied it off. A handy weapon. Jake hadn't even cracked a smile as she'd made it.
In her left pocket was a wad of bills in two separate bundles, one for pickup, one for delivery. She was a quarter-million-dollar air-freight package.
Marnie glanced back. "We're leaving footprints."
"I know." Jake forged ahead. "I want them to follow me. It'll save time."
She shivered and picked up her pace to keep up with him, and immediately slid on a patch of ice-frosted pine needles. She sucked in a gasp. Jake caught her elbow, keeping her upright.
"We've got plenty of time," Jake said quietly, not releasing her.
Plenty of time? "Yeah, like what? Eleven more minutes?"
"I don't hear the chopper. We'll be there long be—Quiet." He slapped his arm across her chest.
She hadn't heard a thing, but she stopped in midstride and held her breath. Other than the breeze stirring the high branches of the pines and the distant sound of rushing water, she heard nothing out of the ordinary.
Jake swiftly pulled her down and reversed them into the shelter of a clump of extremely wet, low-hanging pine branches. Before she could straighten from her contorted position, she heard two men talking quietly as they approached.
She didn't move. Half bent, half twisted, the muscles in her back screamed for her to straighten. She stayed as she was, breath frozen, heart in her throat as they came closer.
She glanced at Jake. He frowned, and she raised her eyebrows questioningly. He indicated her pretzel shape with a motion of his eyes, and she gave him a look back that said, So? What can I do about it?
For the longest time he crouched there staring at her as though she were some exotic animal in the zoo, until the sound of the men moving off drew his attention away.
She expected him to jump up and do something to the two men; instead he stayed as still as stone until they had passed. Long after Marnie could no longer hear their footsteps, Jake held her still.
"Okay?" he finally asked under his breath.
"Peachy." She could almost hear her muscles and tendons scream with relief as she straightened.
"Let's go."
It was uphill all the way. Marnie stumbled over a shadow. Jake reached out a hand to catch her. Tears pricked her eyes.
"Okay?" he asked as she dashed her fingers across her lids.
"Fine. The wind's making my eyes water."
Her mind was in turmoil. Each step they took carried her closer to saying good-bye to Jake. Would she ever see him again? The tightness in her chest made climbing harder, and tears felt icy on her cheeks.
And Duchess? She couldn't bear to think of the fate of her beloved pooch. Where are you, girl? She snapped a pine bough out of her way and got a handful of pitch and her face sprinkled with icy water. She set one squishy foot in front of the other as she climbed, her body on automatic pilot.
"How're you doing?" Jake turned to look at her, his face ruddy with the cold. She was starting to hate that damn black spy suit of his. Right now he didn't have it covering his hair or face, but it was still a symbol of the difference between them. This must be how the wives of police officers, firefighters, and soldiers felt every time their men left for work.
"I presume that's rhetorical?" She blew out a breath. "I'm worried about Duchess." Which was part of the whole truth. The other was the heartbreak she anticipated when she had to say good-bye. "I hate to leave you here by yourself…"
"It's what I'm trained for," he said shortly. "That's the chopper. Move it." Jake took her hand to help her move faster, traversing the muddy terrain in ground-eating strides.
She couldn't hear the helicopter, but if Jake said he could, then it was on the way. Panting, she gripped his hand tightly as they ran. The cold air ripped painfully at her lungs. "What about my car?"
"I'll make sure it's delivered to you." He held a branch aside, dragging her behind him when she reached for it herself. Water sprayed the back of her head when she released it.
She wanted to grab the front of his spy suit in both hands and beg him to at least find her dog before she left. She did nothing of the sort. Jake had enough on his plate without her going ballistic on hi
m. "And Duchess?" she asked with what she thought was admirable restraint.
"She'll be in the car."
"You'll have to bring her. She can't drive."
Oh, God, I'm going to cry. She could feel the prickles behind her nose and the stinging of her lids. She bit her lip and tried to concentrate on where she was running. The last thing Jake needed now was a weepy female.
"I'll make sure there's a designated driver."
"You," Marnie huffed fiercely.
"I don't make promises. Don't believe in them."
"You can believe in mine." He ignored her assurance, which made her even sadder.
Oh, Jake.
She saw the trees ahead in a haze.
And now she could hear the faint whop-whop-whop of the helicopter as it came over the ridge toward them.
They stopped at the edge of the clearing. Heart pounding so hard she could barely hear the approaching aircraft, she looked at his shuttered expression. He was hawk-eyed as he watched for the bad guys.
"I'll pay back the money when you bring the car and Duchess, okay?" In small installments, in person, Marnie thought. That should take about fifty years or so.
He watched the helicopter's approach above them with a frown. "Don't worry about the money."
No, I'm worried about you, Jake Dolan. "I pay my debts." She touched his arm. "Can I ask you something before I go?"
His gaze flickered briefly to her face. "What now?"
She felt like a complete idiot for asking. "If there's anything you like about me other than incredible sex, could you tell me before I go?"
"It's hard to get over the incredible sex part." Jake's mouth quirked. He touched her cheek and used a thumb to brush away the tear she refused to acknowledge. "I admire the hell out of you."
It was hardly the declaration she longed for. She looked at his face. His stern mouth, his strong jaw. His unrelenting eyes, so hooded, so carefully unrevealing.
"I wish…" she said softly, knowing she couldn't possibly be heard. The noise was deafening as the helicopter descended. Jake tugged at her hand. Leaves and debris swirled around them as, hunched over, they ran to meet it.
The pilot, bulky in a heavy jacket and wearing a belligerent expression on his red face, shouted over the sound of the rotors. "Money?" He rubbed his fingers together in the universal sign for cash.
Jake shouted back, "Papers?" He flicked the pages in an imaginary book.
The pilot tossed Jake his log. Jake did a quick glance at the man's logbook. She wondered what he would do if the records weren't satisfactory. Fly her into Sacramento himself?
She wished.
Jake threw the book back to the surly pilot, then indicated that Marnie should give the man one of the bundles in her pocket. She handed it over. The man did a quick count, his lips moving. The swirl of the blades above them made normal speech impossible. Probably a good thing, Marnie thought morosely. It wouldn't be hard to lip-read "good-bye." Her hair whipped around her head, stinging her cold cheeks, making her eyes water and her ears throb.
Jake motioned for Marnie to get into the helicopter. She knew she had to hurry. The bad guys must have heard the helicopter's approach and would be following their footprints.
Marnie framed his face with her hands, leaning into him, then wrapped her arms about his neck and held him as tightly as she could. Standing on her tippy-toes, she pressed herself against him from head to toe. Oh, God, oh, God. She couldn't bear leaving him. Their thick jackets made the embrace unsatisfactory and frustrating.
"Please be careful," she said against his scarred throat. "I… I don't want anything to happen to you." She knew he couldn't hear her. "I love you, Jake," she whispered achingly against his mouth. Then kissed him before he could set her aside.
His arms came around her, and he kissed her back. Hard, insistent. Meaningful.
Meaning what? Marnie asked herself as Jake released her. In the next heartbeat he lifted her into the open door of the helicopter and pounded on the Plexiglas for the pilot to take off.
His dark hair blew wildly about his face. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Her life is in your hands, pal." He held up a scrap of paper, torn, Marnie presumed, from the pilot's logbook, although she hadn't seen him do it. He looked terrifying in his black spy suit with strategically strapped weapons and that ferocious glare.
The pilot, looking nervous, saluted Jake and fiddled with something on the lit-up control panel in front of him. The helicopter lifted from the ground.
Tears sharp in her eyes, Marnie watched as, without a backward glance, Jake melted into the trees and disappeared from view.
Out of sight under cover of the trees, Jake watched as the rotors accelerated, the nose dipped and the chopper lifted. He could see Marnie looking small and lost, face pale, eyes wounded, inside the bubble.
He withdrew his weapon from the shoulder holster and covered the chopper while remaining discreetly hidden amongst the trees.
The 9 mm Browning felt good and solid in his hand. The automatic had been custom-made for him, had an excellent sight, and could be fired in rapid succession. The Walther PPK would stay in his ankle holster unless needed. Tucked into the small of his back was the Daewoo DP-51. He wasn't taking any chances. He'd come loaded for bear. And intended finding it.
Stalking tangos always sharpened his senses. In this case the enemy wasn't tangos. It made no difference. They were still the bad guys.
The controls on his adrenaline opened several notches. This time it was going to take a lot more self-control to concentrate. While not impossible, it was going to be annoyingly difficult to shut Marnie out of his mind.
"Other than the incredible sex," she'd said. Jake felt a reluctant grin tug at his mouth. Other than the incredible sex? Judas, the woman had an unflagging way of blindsiding him.
He braced his back against a broad tree trunk, propping his foot on the gnarled bark. He scanned the clearing for movement, then refocused on the chopper.
The blades spun faster as the small chopper rose in a small tornado of wet leaves and pine needles. For a few seconds he watched the red strobe flashes of the chopper's flying lights blinking. Then flicked the safety on the Browning, kept the gun in his hand, and turned to start walking back down the mountain.
This time he didn't bother trying to hide his presence. He wanted the bastards to know where he was. Sending Marnie away had put him in a damn bad mood.
A slither of apprehension shimmied up his spine. Jake paused, head cocked, as he tuned his senses to the forest around him. Nothing seemed out of place, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. A mini whirlwind kicked up a circle of dead leaves. The tree branches creaked and swayed. The scent of crisp air mingled with the unmistakable pungent smell of fuel.
He turned slightly, listening, as the chopper lifted above the trees, a hundred feet above his head.
He had a bad feeling. A very bad feeling.
The familiar whop-whop-whop of the chopper overhead sounded fine. Jake concentrated, separating the sounds beneath the noise of the rotors. The music of the forest, the rhythm of the river, the sibilant whisper of the breeze through the lacy pines.
Despite the normalcy of the sounds, his gut instinct warned him that something wasn't right.
He turned fully, heart already racing, ready to sprint up the hill and see if—
He looked up.
Just in time to hear the explosion and see the fireball in the sky as the chopper exploded in a burst of flame and blew to smithereens.
Chapter Fourteen
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Jake hadn't heard the launch. Judas Priest. Despite his superior hearing, he'd been so damned busy thinking. He hadn't even heard it.
The ball flared like the sun. Bits of metal rained down on treetops, setting small bursts of flame dancing in the pines even as he started running toward it.
"Marnie!" Jake choked back the black terror that consumed him. "Noooooooo!"
He sprinted between the trees, s
lid on the slippery needles, and jumped over rocks and fallen logs in his race uphill. Breath sawing, lungs heaving, he kept his eyes glued to the horror ahead as he ran. Huge chunks of flaming debris fell from the sky like the wrath of God and lay smoldering on the sodden earth.
"You sons-of-bitches, I'll kill you for—"
The breath was knocked out of him as he was tackled from behind. The other man was up and at him before his momentum was arrested by a low rock. Jake rolled, swept his left foot out, and brought his attacker down. Locked together, they plunged ten feet down the steep slope.
Teeth bared, Jake slugged him in the gut. The man retaliated. Sweat and blood flew like confetti in the chill air. Jake used every trick learned in back alleys and dockside bars. Fists, elbows, knees. The fight wasn't equal. The other man didn't have his years of experience, nor his training. Most of all, he didn't have Jake's fury, pain, or guilt.
Jake was bigger, stronger, and deadlier. Motivated, and in a hurry. This skirmish didn't make a dent in his internal turmoil. Nothing would keep him from finding Marnie.
Jake grabbed his would-be assassin by the throat and hauled him upright to deliver the coup de grace, a quick, efficient uppercut to the jaw. His attacker flew back, struck a knobby tree trunk with a satisfying thwack, then slid to the ground.
Jake staggered to his feet, adrenaline surging, heart pounding, mind reeling.
"Dolan, wait!" The man struggled to push the head piece off his face so Jake could ID him.
Jake stared incomprehensibly at Sam Plunkett, a man he'd worked with several times at T-FLAC over the years. He didn't know the man well, but he had a decent rep in the agency. They weren't friends by any stretch of the imagination, but he'd held a grudging respect for the younger man. Until now. The last time they'd seen each other was two weeks ago, at the inquiry over the midwestern fiasco.
