by Velvet Veers
Walleye Joe came back from the kitchenette with Claire's tea, setting it down on the table in front of her, then taking a place protectively beside her."
In a shaky voice, Claire explained to the detective all that she remembered about the incident, including the part when Joe rescued her.
Detective Moon focused his attention on Walleye Joe. “That was a very brave thing you did, but you must realize the situation could have backfired and he could've killed Ms. O'Malley and you both."
"Yes, I realize that now, but I was running on instincts. I had to do something fast. And I have to say, I'd do the same thing again."
The detective frowned and said, “That's kind of an unusual response. Most people would dial 911. May I ask what you do for a living, sir?"
Joe hesitated, looking from the detective to Claire and back. “I'm a fishing guide in northern Minnesota. I specialize in ice fishing during the winter months."
"I hate to be persistent, but I must ask you, Joe, what you did before you became a fishing guide?"
Joe cleared his throat and answered, “DEA."
Claire gasped and Moon frowned deeper. “You're a drug enforcement agent?
"Correction. I'm a retired drug enforcement agent. Now I'm a fishing guide and professional lecturer on how to catch walleye."
"Oh,” said Claire. “Now I understand. That's how you acquired the nickname ‘Walleye Joe.’”
"Oh, do you?” His lips twisted in a smile. Shifting his attention back to the detective, he asked, “Does this sort of thing happen often in this city?"
"No, not that much really. At this hotel, never that I can remember. Ma'am, do you remember what the man looked like?
"I didn't get a look at him. It was dark. He grabbed me from behind with his forearm around my neck. I couldn't move. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful."
Walleye Joe knew the interrogation would now work its way back to him. He gave the detective a steely glare and said, “I saw the guy briefly. It was enough to give you a general description, but not enough for a sketch. Dark tanned skin, black hair, round face, big nose, around five-nine or ten, weighing around two hundred ."
"That's a fairly accurate description, Joe. Are you sure I couldn't get a sketch artist up here?"
"At one time, it made a life or death difference to be observant for myself and others. I'm sorry, Moon, but I only saw the man briefly, no more."
Now get out so I can have sex with Claire. Great, where did that thought come from? What kind of insensitive jerk am I? She's just been through a terribly traumatic experience and all I can think about is jumping her bones. What kind of beast am I?
Detective Sam Moon left with a promise to keep them posted on any new information.
* * * *
Claire watched Walleye Joe, her apprehension soaring. Her mind churned with possible explanations as to why a former DEA agent would be here at a fishing conference. Or was he really ex-DEA? Could he be working under cover? Does he know something is going on with the fishing commissioner?
The name Walleye Joe began to sound more and more like a cover name to Claire. Her reporter wheels fired sparks, burning rubber. Should I talk to him about it or let it lie?
"You're looking at me like I'm the devil. What did I do?"
"Nothing. I'm still trying to get over the shock of you being former DEA. But now that I look at you, yeah, I can see it. Isn't that an extremely dangerous profession?"
A dark, deadly expression clouded his face. “Yes, that's why I quit, in fact. After it ruined my marriage—my one and only marriage. Can I get you anything else? More tea?"
Claire wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. “I'm just so cold. I can't seem to get warm, even after drinking the hot tea. By the way, the tea was great. Thanks for fixing it."
Walleye Joe moved in closer to her, placing his strong arm around her shoulders so she could snuggle against his side. He rubbed her arm for warmth. “Is that better?"
Claire smiled and tucked her head into the crook of his neck and wrapped her arms around his middle. “Mmmmhhh ... now it is.” She inhaled a deep breath, savoring in the delight of his cologne. She pressed her lips on his neck, gently kissing up to his ear. With her teeth, she lightly bit on the lobe and immediately licked the pain away. Without thought of where this could lead, she ran her tongue around the outside crest of his ear and applied a string of kisses until she reached his mouth.
She felt the dam between them break when Walleye Joe placed his hand at her nape, encouraging her every move. The warm, wet feel of his lips on hers made her want him more than any man she could remember—ever. She moaned as he entered her mouth with his tongue, enjoying the headiness of the intimate act.
Moving closer, Claire slid her leg over his, then down between them. He grabbed her kneecap to adjust her leg and move it slowly over his growing erection.
* * * *
He was on fire and he could feel his tightly wound control slipping away. Thoughts of all they'd been through evaporated—they were man and woman, two hungry bodies desiring nothing in the universe but each other. He was ready once more to surrender to the all-consuming passion that had overtaken him.
Walleye Joe moved his hand from her neck to her ass, squeezing the small, rounded mounds. She moaned again as he lifted her up to straddle his lap. Placing his hands on each side of her hips, he guided her back and forth over his rock hard penis. He knew it had been a long time for him, but this unbelievable seductive movement almost sent him right over the edge. He felt like a schoolboy.
After removing her shirt, Joe kissed her neck and collarbone while moving his hands along the low plunged neckline of her dress, squeezing two of the most gorgeous breasts he had ever seen—in real life. Moving his hands to her globes he followed with his mouth, circling his tongue around one of the protruding nipples.
He looked up to see Claire throw her head back and push her breast closer to him. Moving to the other breast, he gently tugged on it and she ground into him harder, panting heavily as her skin grew feverishly hot. Running his hand down her stomach, he slipped his fingers under her dress, quickly climbing to her thatch of hair to find her hidden clit.
The moment he touched her nub, he felt her whole body tense and shudder. Applying a small amount of pressure, he moved his finger in a circle, enjoying the look of ecstasy on her face. Joe had all but forgotten the incredible thrill of watching a woman's face while he pleasured her.
He slid his finger past her clit and into her vagina. Claire placed her hands on his shoulders, “Ohmigod! I'm going to come.” He sped up his finger action and watched her face turn from tension, to exquisite pleasure, to total relaxation. Then he felt her liquid release on his fingers. Slowly he withdrew his hand and placed two fingers in his mouth, licking off her juices.
He waited for her to recover and slid the rest of her clothes off, rapidly following with his own. Kissing her deeply he laid her down on the couch covering her with his body. Moving against her with a steady rhythm, he continued to watch her gorgeous face. He loved her creamy skin, her sparkling green eyes, her delicate Irish features that revealed every emotion.
She spread her legs, inviting him in, then grabbed his penis and he felt the liquid velvet of her tight flesh wrapping around him, pulling him into the vastness of her being. He kept the rhythm slow. He wanted this to last.
"Oh, my God, Claire, honey. You just don't know how good you are, how good you make me feel."
She smiled and he pressed his lips to hers, matching the movements of their tongues to their heated connection below. He pressed into her harder, faster, and thrusting with an intensity that knew no barriers. She scraped her nails down his back and butt, and then grabbed his ass with her hands, squeezing them tight. That was all it took.
With one last thrust, he came into her, and he thought his juices would never stop flowing. “Oh, yes, dear Claire, you do know how to melt this man of ice."
* * * *
Claire reached over
to Walleye Joe's side of the bed. Feeling the emptiness, she moved her hand to the indention on the pillow. She felt happy and content. Ah, it hadn't been a dream after all. She grabbed the pillow and placed it over her face, loving the scent of him that lingered on the fabric. She hugged it to her, releasing a sated sigh.
The frightening thought of her attacker entered her mind and swiftly she jumped out of bed. Naked, she searched the room for her clothes. She'd followed the trail to the couch just as Walleye Joe came out of the bathroom, his hair wet and slicked back, and a towel tied around his waist looking sexier than hell.
A gleam of delight flickered in his eyes and Claire backed up as she watched Walleye Joe slowly remove the towel. The sight of his penis becoming erect made her stomach flutter. Her body reacted automatically, the wanting just as intense if not more than the previous night, flooding her with a myriad of confusing emotions.
She took a step back. “Whoa, big boy. I need to brush my teeth and take a shower."
He stood close to her now and whispered in her ear, “Afterward."
Claire's hands went to his chest and moved over his muscles, feeling them bunch. “Absolutely not. You're so nice and clean. I want to be, too."
"Okay, I can be reasonable, believe it or not.” He flashed her a charming, ear-to-ear grin, then placed his hand over hers and squeezed it, causing her nails to claw into his skin. He moved it up to his mouth and licked the palm. Seductively, he stuck his tongue between each finger. Slowly he began to back up toward the bathroom, Claire in tow.
"You can take a shower on one condition. I get to scrub your back."
Claire smiled at the determined look in his eyes and wondered how they would both fit.
CHAPTER 6
They both dressed and Claire glanced at the digital clock. “Oh no, I almost forgot. I have an appointment with Rodney Ballinger this afternoon. If I don't get a move on I'll be late."
"Who is Rodney Ballinger?"
"He is the owner of the Fry Hatchery that Harvey Morgan hired to stock the lake. Only they didn't deliver everything they were supposed to and the fishing commissioner covered it up."
"Claire, I'd rather you not go. I have a bad feeling about this meeting."
"I appreciate your concern, Joe. That's so sweet, but life really must continue outside of the bedroom. Unfortunately.” She smiled in jest, but noticed his brow creased in serious concern.
"I just don't like it. First you speak to that commissioner at the party, and you get attacked. I don't know how it all pieces together, but it's way too coincidental for my liking."
"Don't forget the dead accountant. He gave me some information before he died implicating the corruption of the fishing commissioner."
"When was that?"
"The day I met you. He warned me these people were dangerous—but he didn't go so far as to say his or anyone else's life was in danger. Do you think he could've been murdered and it was made to look like a robbery?"
"I don't know but I am going to find out, and until I'm sure, I'll be sticking to you like Elmer's Glue. I hope you like the smell of glue."
"I like the smell of you. Seriously, how will you find out the truth?"
"I still have friends ... in the business."
"I need to go home to change clothes and get my laptop."
"Sure thing.” He winked at her playfully.
* * * *
The sun shone bright when they stepped outside. Hurrying toward them, the valet took her ticket and rushed off. Her red Beemer's tires squealed around the corner in a matter of minutes and it screeched to a halt in front of them.
Walleye Joe tipped the valet as Claire climbed into the driver's seat. He opened the door and looked inside. “How in the hell would you suggest I fit in there?"
Laughing, Claire flipped the latches on the convertible and pressed the button sliding the top back. Leaning down she released the seat lever to move the seat back as far as possible. “Okay, now give it a try."
He stuck one leg in and sat, then pulled the other one in with his hands. Surprisingly, he fit and flashed her a big smile.
Putting the pedal to the metal, she lurched from the curb and flew down the highway.
Walleye Joe clutched the dash with both hands until his knuckles were white. Claire didn't seem to notice. Turning the radio up, changing channels, and switching lanes all at the same time seemed to come by her naturally.
When she slid her card into the automatic entrance at her apartment complex, the metal gate opened, allowing them entry.
Joe's head snapped back as she stepped on the gas, throwing him sideways in the seat as she made a sharp right into her parking space. Before he could pry his hands off the dash, she was out of the car and waiting for him. He opened the door and one leg practically fell out on its own accord. The dilemma existed when trying to get the rest of him out. Eventually he removed his bulk, deciding definitively they would take his car next time they went anywhere.
The moment they approached the door to the apartment, the evidence of a break-in was apparent. He moved Claire behind him and pushed the door open with his foot. Barely above a whisper he rumbled, “Stay here."
Sliding in the door quietly, he moved out of her range of vision. A short time later, Walleye Joe opened the door. “They're gone. You can come in."
Believing the worst—that burglars had stolen everything she owned, Claire was surprised that nothing seemed out of place. Puzzled, she looked around and walked through the apartment, her vision landing on the television, stereo, and ... her laptop was gone!
Rushing over to the desk where the laptop usually sat, she searched around the area. “My laptop. They took my laptop. Why only the laptop? I don't get it. Has robbery become a specialized business?"
"Maybe it wasn't a burglary. Maybe they were looking for something specific—such as a disc or incriminating evidence."
"Ohmigod! You think this was the fishing commissioner's handiwork?"
"I think the evidence points in that direction. If not, it could very well be something else you've been working on."
"No, that's the only story I'm working on at this moment.” She didn't have the heart to tell him about her potential inside story for busting Companionship, Inc.
Joe fumbled through some papers as he grumbled, “Well, I don't like it. Where did you put those papers you said the accountant gave you?"
"Luckily they're in my briefcase in the trunk of my car. I was running so late I just left them in the car."
"Good. Claire, honey, I think we need to get you out of town as quickly as possible."
"What? Where would I go?"
"I want you to go back to Minnesota with me. I can keep you safe there while I get to the bottom of this. I have a feeling we've opened a Pandora's box—or maybe a hornet's nest."
"But how can we get information from all the way up there? I don't think that's such a good idea. I need to be here close to the source. Besides that, I've got to work."
"I'm sure when your boss learns the circumstances, he'll want you to take a leave of absence. Right now you're a sitting duck for whoever's after you. We have to find out who and why. But first we get you out of target range. I don't want you to turn up like the accountant."
Claire gasped. “You think I'm in that much danger?"
"Yes, I do. Please go pack and we'll take the first flight out of town."
"Okay, if you're sure. It'll take me a while."
"Anything I can do to help?"
"Yea, you can fix the front door. I'd like the rest of my belongings to be here when I get back."
Chuckling, he got to work on the door while Claire packed.
They took a taxi to the airport, much to Walleye Joe's relief, leaving her car at the apartment. They managed to get a red-eye late that night since very few people opted to travel that late. Lying low was the name of the game here. The fewer people who saw them leave, the better.
"Claire, where are the papers the accountant gave you?
I'd like to take a look at them."
She rustled through her briefcase and handed him the papers.
He raised the armrest between them, placing his arm around her back drawing her in close, while allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder.
How could he have let this slip of girl get under his skin so fast? In the space of a few days, he'd let his guard down, falling hard for this incredible woman. What in the hell was he doing playing bodyguard to her? And more importantly, why was he taking her to his home? These thoughts and others flew through his head as he listened to her relaxed breathing. He couldn't resist kissing her gently on the forehead before he settled in and began reading.
* * * *
Once in Minnesota, Claire drank in the surroundings, loving the cold, crisp, incredibly clear air. The quality of light in this part of the world was spectacular. As darkness sank in, the temperature dropped. She'd expected cold, but the wind chilled her to the bone marrow. Surely she'd freeze to death or turn into a Popsicle.
Watching Walleye Joe get the bags and place them in his Jeep Cherokee, she smiled, thinking how his car reflected his personality—manly, powerful, rugged and dependable.
As they headed from Minneapolis up to northern Minnesota, the forest grew dense and the hills higher. As they approached Duluth, right on Lake Superior, Claire's breath hitched from the spectacular sight. The famous aerial lift bridge was a dazzling display of lights. A ship moved slowly into the harbor.
Joe pointed skyward toward a swirl of neon green and soft pink lights. “The aurora borealis ... northern lights."
"Wow,” Claire exclaimed. “I never knew Minnesota was so beautiful. I guess I've always thought of it as one big iceberg."
Walleye Joe laughed. “Wait until you get to my cabin and hear the loons and the wolves howl for the first time. You might never go back home.” He took her hand in his and squeezed it. “I'm glad you're with me, Claire. And not just for your own safety. I like being with you."
