Strike Force

by Beth Rhodes

  “Guess not.”

  “Well?” Her grin killed him. “What are we waiting for?”

  He lifted the key ring with the partly torn lanyard hanging from the bike’s handle. “Not a damn thing.”

  Marie reached for the key, and a tear slipped down her face as her hand wrapped around the small metal object. “I’m sorry to be such a ninny. How did I not know this was in here? All this time?”

  Malcolm gave in to the need to wrap his arms around her and stepped up to her, circling her so her head was tucked right into his shoulder. She hugged him. Simple as that, and it felt good. So good. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, but…I never expected to see this again. I thought Uncle Bert must have sold it after—after my parents died.” She rubbed her forehead back and forth on his chest, and her sigh warmed him. “Do you believe in God?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “Maybe.”

  She shrugged then looked up into his eyes. “I kind of hope so, you know?”

  “I like the idea if I want something, I can go after it.”

  “And I like knowing someone bigger than me is willing to put stuff—people,” she added, lifting her brow, “in my life who are there to be my friends, there to help me, protect me, or even steer me in the right direction.”

  “Are you saying I’m steering you?”

  “Are you suggesting we take this bike for a ride?” She grinned at him, the seriousness from the moment before lost in the dark depths of her eyes. He wasn’t sure he could believe as she did. He wasn’t even sure how she could be such an optimist after what she’d lived through, losing her parents the way she had…

  But this was simple. “Definitely.”

  “Then you can steer me anywhere you please.”

  Malcolm groaned as her words shot him to partially aroused, pulled her into his arms as she laughed, and squeezed her. “Let’s take her for a ride.”

  “Her?” she asked, stepping back. “When I’ve got something between my legs, I like to think it’s a him.”

  His pants tightened. “Um, right. I’m going to stop thinking about being between your legs now.”

  Her grin widened, and she leaned in and nipped at his lips. “Don’t. Come on. Haven’t you ever wanted to do it in a barn before?”

  “Fuck no. Can’t say it’s crossed my mind.”

  Marie turned him and sat him on the back seat of the bike.

  Fuck yes. He lifted a leg and straddled the bike. When she stood next to him, her fingers tracing circles on his chest and shoulder—a look of knowledge in her eye—he leaned against the seatback. She flicked the buttons of his fly open.

  “Shit.” He wanted her. But even so, his conscience warred with him, like it normally didn’t. Why now? He should take what she was willingly offering. Right?

  He wasn’t getting his pants closed again at this point, anyway.

  Her fingers brushed the soft cotton covering his dick. He lightly took her wrist and caressed the length of her arm to her shoulder. He threaded his hand through her hair and drew her closer.

  He lifted his hips and pulled out the small foil packet.

  “Handy,” she breathed.

  “Hopeful,” he said, grabbing her shirt and pulling her in so he could kiss her.

  She worked him free of his boxers, not even bothering to pull down the waistband. Jesus. They were like two randy kids. Except he was thinking way too much this time. Seeing her here, at her home, placed her solidly into a friend zone.

  He slowed the kiss, so he could taste every little bit of her.

  Marie lifted a leg and straddled the bike. She leaned into him and sucked on his lower lip. He moaned her name, moaned into the embrace as his hands braced her rib cage. She lifted his shirt, and her touch burned him. He hadn’t made love to a woman like this, as if they were friends first.

  She was different. She’d stuck by him in these last months, even though he’d dismissed her every notion to become more than friendly coworkers. She expected nothing—still.

  Something he’d never had in his marriage.

  The thought sent his heart racing, forced him to block doubt and worry and fear from his brain. “Put it on,” he said into her mouth as he grabbed her hand and palmed the condom into hers.

  She ripped it open, set him free, and rolled it down.

  He pulsed into her hand, aching at her touch. Brushing her skirt further up her legs, he gathered her closer and drew her panties out of the way. God, she was warm and soft. He took a moment to caress her, make her shiver against him as he pressed kisses on her neck and behind her ear. Then he tugged her down onto him. Her groan, the tightening of her legs at his waist, and her sharp breath forced him to stop and wait. She moved slowly at first, taking him one inch at a time.

  She reached down to touch herself and, in doing so, brushed those sharp little fingernails against his abdomen, sending shards of ecstasy through him. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face against her neck.

  With her heels on the axle under him, she began a steady rise and fall, and he matched her, thrusting into her. He gripped her sides as the ache took over. “Jesus, I’m not going to last,” he finally said.

  He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. She touched his face, drawing his attention to her, and she pierced his gaze, and he watched her…

  Good God, he watched her as her body was captured by release. Her back arched into his hands and he held her to his mouth, taking her tight, cotton-clad bud of her breast between his teeth. She rode him… “Oh, man,” he whispered as his own obliteration began at the base of his spine. He was completely unable to stop the train wreck of all the feelings and needs and desires from slamming into him.

  ***

  Marie fit against his shoulder like she was born to lie there. For the first time in her entire life, she was glad her stature was delicate, because she couldn’t move. And his warm body created this perfect place to close her eyes.

  When he started brushing at the length of her hair, she groaned.

  She hadn’t expected this side of him, the one that would do tender things, like offer a comforting touch when she was upset. But he’d offered comfort at the house earlier, too.

  “What are we going to do about this, Marie?”

  Not knowing what he was looking for, she hesitated. She didn’t know. The bottom line was scarier than any possibility. “What do you want to do?”

  She folded her hands on his chest and stretched, which made him slip out of her. “Oops.” She grinned and rested her chin on her hands.

  Through his smile, she caught the look of uncertainty in his eyes.

  “I don’t know,” he finally answered.

  Even though she knew it was coming, she still moaned when he moved to clean up and set their clothing straight. She wouldn’t have minded staying there for a quick power nap.

  “We’re even, then.” She dismounted, straightened her underwear and skirt, and enjoyed the stretch of her muscles. “Because I don’t know either. But I don’t want to stop.”

  He chuckled. “Not to be insensitive or…shallow, but I agree.”

  “How do we keep going, Malcolm? Will you trust me?”

  An unidentifiable emotion flashed through his eyes. “How about we take things one day at a time?”

  There was a little twisty feeling deep in her heart, but she brushed it aside. She wouldn’t ask more of him than he was willing to give. She’d chosen her road in life, and she was damn proud of how far she’d come. She had no regrets. Even if it did mean he would never truly consider her someone worthy of his partnership.

  Maybe with one day at a time, she could convince him she was worth it.

  “Thinking?”

  She sighed. “Sorry. What a downer this turned into.”

  “Sex always complicates things, Marie. Because people expect things from it. Whether it’s just the pleasure of the orgasm or a gold fucking band.”

  She flinched. “You’re right, of course.” She hated tha
t he was right. She brushed at her shirt, avoiding eye contact. “So, we take this one day at a time, then. We see what happens. I would like to call exclusive rights, though. As long as we’re enjoying each other’s company, I mean.”

  “Jesus, Marie.” He grabbed her and turned her to him. “You must think I’m pure asshole.”

  “No—”

  He stopped her with a kiss, invading her mouth with his tongue. She rose on her toes and held on as he slowed the assault and then held her face in his hands.

  “I don’t, Malcolm. I swear. The assurance goes both ways, and I want to be direct and honest with you. No doubts. Not for you or for me. Whatever you want to call this thing we’re going to do, it’s between us.”

  “Okay. Good.” He squeezed her rear, making her roll her eyes and smile. One quick, firm kiss, and he let go of her. “I’ll be right back. We’re going to get out of this barn.”

  Her heart fluttered, like an important page in their book had been turned. “I’m coming with you and changing into my jeans.”

  He frowned and pouted.

  “Seriously, Malcolm. I can’t ride with my skirt.”

  “I like your skirts.”

  “You do?” Marie laughed.

  “I like the one that has bells on the bottom of it.”

  She stared. “You’re full of surprises today.”

  He shrugged. “I can hear you coming down the hall when you wear it, and I get a hard-on thinking about taking it off you.”

  “Well,” she murmured, then cleared her throat. “That’s romantic.”

  He huffed a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah. Sorry. You’ve been under my skin for a long time.”

  “So not true.”

  He didn’t bother answering, merely glared.

  “Okay,” she said, as a lightness filled her. “I feel better. I thought the attraction was one-sided.”

  “No,” he said shortly, grumpily even, and then he walked out, leaving her behind, grinning.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He liked that she wanted to drive. Having her in front of him where he could hold her as they wound through the hills and trees of northern Oregon was an unexpected pleasure.

  He hadn’t intended to share his secret lust with her, but after the sex…well, it seemed silly not to. Geez. The thought of her, feeling like she needed to set boundaries for him, sorta struck him as wrong.

  Had he become such a man whore?

  The few dates in the months before they’d left for Qatar had been nothing serious. He didn’t not date, but his few women hardly warranted a scarlet letter.

  The bike rounded another turn, and he leaned into it with her as she slowed the bike and pulled into the dirt lot of a diner. He steadied the bike for her, and she got off and pulled the helmet from her head. He set the kickstand down and did the same.

  “Hungry?”

  “Starving,” he answered as he set his helmet on the back seat. “So, this is where your parents used to bring you?”

  “Yup. It looks the same, too.” Her gaze swept the area. “Trees are a little bigger.”

  He took her hand, walked to the door, and opened it to let her in first. He noted the couple in the back booth, the single guy at the table to their left, and the waitress behind the diner counter, who was pouring coffee into a young man’s white mug.

  A woman approached as they stopped at the sign, telling them to wait to be seated, and took her new customers in, first Malcolm then Marie. Her eyes widened. “Marie Feur!”

  Marie tensed, sending Malcolm into protective mode. He placed himself between Marie and the short, overweight hostess who was barreling toward them. The woman must have sensed their unease, because she slowed.

  “Marie?” A frown of confusion was on her face.

  Marie placed a hand at the small of his back and, with a sigh, relaxed. “Edna?”

  “You remember!” The woman grabbed two of the laminated menus before waving them in. “You were such a little thing the last time you came in here.”

  She sat them at a booth next to the window. Malcolm took the seat facing the door. And then Marie went around the lady and sat next to him. He moved over.

  “I remember blueberry pancakes,” Marie said.

  “Of course you do!” Edna’s face brightened, her smile adding prettiness that Malcolm hadn’t recognized at first. “You were a little tyke, my dear. Not much has changed, though.” She laughed. “You’re still a little one. Pretty, though. You sure did grow up nice. Your parents would be proud. Your uncle keeps us in the loop now.” She tsked as she leaned in to whisper, “Says you’re working for secret agency now—with the government.” She snuck a peek behind her and then put a hand on Marie’s shoulder. “You’ll be safe here, though. My Buddy was a marine. He keeps his shotgun over the door. No one will get to you while you’re here.”

  “Thank you.” Malcolm bit back a smile, keeping his face serious. “We really appreciate it.”

  Marie reached over and pinched his thigh. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

  With a nod, Edna pulled out her little notebook and flipped to a new page. “So, what can I get you folks?”

  “I’d like a coffee and your special,” Malcolm said.

  “I’ll have those pancakes, Edna, and a glass of orange juice.”

  Edna took the menus and hurried away.

  Malcolm sat back and put an arm on the back of the seat. When Marie sat back, she fit up against his side and, with a little stretch, his fingers wound through her hair. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to know me.”

  “I’m not surprised.” She was the most unassuming person he’d ever met. She didn’t apologize for who she was, but she also didn’t expect more than her due.

  “I like Edna,” he finally said. He liked meeting people from her past. It brought all sorts of ah-ha to knowing her. Like how her parents had lived a somewhat Bohemian lifestyle filled with love and affection. And even after their deaths, her connection to her uncle kept her from losing faith, losing hope.

  “I wish I remembered more.” She bit her lip.

  “It’ll come back to you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “The good things always come back.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about, do you?” She laughed, leaned forward, and took his mouth in a quick kiss. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

  Edna was back with their drinks, and she smiled approvingly as she set down his coffee and Marie’s juice. “How’s your uncle doing, dear?”

  “He’s doing great. It’s nice to be home after so long.” Marie sipped. “I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I got back.”

  Pulling her notepad from her apron pocket and her pen from her behind her ear, Edna smiled. “We were worried there for a while. It’s good to hear he’s doing well.”

  Marie frowned and sent a glance of confusion Malcolm’s way. He wanted to comfort her, a crazy, unexpected urge. “What did she mean?” she asked when Edna returned to the kitchen.

  “Well, your uncle isn’t exactly young. Maybe—”

  “He would have told me if something was wrong—” But she stopped short, then, as if talking to herself, continued, “He would want to protect me. And he was pretty upset when I left for Qatar.”

  “But you’re home now. He would have told you if something was wrong,” Malcolm said, squeezing her shoulder.

  As they sat and talked, Malcolm realized they talked more than he’d talked to any woman in forever. He didn’t think there had even been a time with his ex-wife that he’d really sat down and talked about more than where they’d go spend the next hundred dollars or drink the next ten beers or fuck.

  His stomach hurt a little as his thoughts wondered back, and he blocked those memories.

  “There’s so much even the average American can do, you know?” She took a bite of food, chewed, and pointed at him with her fork. “How often do you buy more than you need at the
grocery store?”

  “Never,” he answered.

  She stared. “Never? Not even for a package of Oreos? Who needs Oreos?”

  Heat rose on his neck. “Well, I guess need might be up to interpretation.”

  She laughed. “You think?”

  Even his cheeks were feeling the effect of his embarrassment. But he shrugged. “I need the reminder of where I came from. And…the Oreos do that.” Her gaze filled with something that could be pity, and he scowled. “Okay, fine. I buy Oreos and I don’t need to. What are you saying? I should take the two ninety-eight and give it to someone who’s hungry?”

  “No,” she whispered, as she placed a hand on his arm. “Never stop buying Oreos.”

  She leaned over and placed a kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being exactly who you are—”

  “Even if it is an anal retentive stick-in-the-mud?”

  Her smile came slowly and seductively. “I like you, Malcolm.” Before he could even respond, she continued in her rapid-fire manner, talking about the growing child hunger epidemic right here in the States.

  Without knowing it, she spoke of him and his life before he’d joined the military. Had she figured him out and was playing him, reeling him in? But he couldn’t believe that, not after Qatar, not after all these months of working with her.

  Her eyes lit as she spoke of the local food banks in Raleigh, and how she’d been wanting to get in there and help out. But with their schedule, her efforts so far had been minimal.

  “I didn’t know you volunteered down there.”

  “Yeah. Tancredo hooked me up. Did you know he visits the prison once a month, too?”

  “No.” How had he not known? “His brother died in prison. His mother is in prison. And Liz’s ex is a reformed prisoner. It either makes perfect sense or it’s completely ironic.”

  Marie laughed. “Well, I think it’s kind. The world needs more kindness.”

  “The world isn’t always nice to people who are kind.”