by Karen Anders
But just because she’d clearly done a good job taking care of herself up to this point didn’t mean bad things couldn’t happen. He swore under his breath. He’d worked with partners before, even a female partner. Amber was as tough as they came and Kinley was cut from the same tough-cookie cloth. But there was an emotional element tied in here which was tying him up in knots and confusing the crap out of him.
It was the part that wasn’t rational or reasonable, more like a primal directive to protect and defend. He snorted at himself. Caveman mentality.
He stared after her as she disappeared among the racks of clothing, thinking about that, which led him to also think about what would likely happen if they went up to their hotel room at the same time. And finally, resigned, he sighed and turned toward the registration desk. “Yeah, good call.”
Thirty minutes later he stepped out of the shower, his muscles loosened up from the hot water. He should feel good, but he didn’t. Probably the latent anxiety he’d tried to ignore, quite unsuccessfully, waiting for Kinley to show up. She hadn’t come into the bathroom, but that could be because she was aware of what would happen if she got anywhere near him while he was naked. More distraction they didn’t need right now. And he was already feeling far more distracted having been through the emotional roller coaster of the past half hour than he’d like to be.
Falling for her was hell on him.
Whoa, slow that damn train down, he thought immediately. Just a slip of the mind. Crazy slippery mind.
Then he stepped into the master suite and found Kinley stretched out on the bed, fast asleep. And thought falling for her was also one of the best feelings in the whole world. The relief was far greater than it probably should have been, but he was human. She was here in one piece. That was all that mattered.
His body, however, was even happier, if its reaction to seeing her all flushed and relaxed was any indication. In fact, it felt quite rejuvenated. Perhaps a cold shower would have been a better idea. Yeah, if he had been functioning on more than one brain cell, it would have occurred to him.
He hated to wake her, but they had a timeline here and were slowing it down. Besides, she looked too good in that bed and he couldn’t jump her bones. She would rather have the short time they were allotted to clean up. Again, he was struck by how little he really knew her. And by how badly he wanted to correct that. It would take a lifetime to know everything about her, but this was about a temporary assignment. He was going back to DC and she was going to probably get a promotion out of this.
He rubbed the towel over his hair, then tripped over a long row of bags lined up against the side of the bed as he rounded it. That was some major shopping in the twenty minutes he’d been in the shower. She’d obviously made a nice dent in the DEA credit cards issued in their names.
His eyes caressed every inch of her. A bundle of surprises, a sharp mind. Special agent and shopaholic. She stretched. Stretching was good. Another part of his body thought it was good, too. His emotions were far too turbulent to deal with that temptation at the moment. His eyes roamed over the bags. Getting dressed was a good idea. Not the idea he wanted to contemplate, but it was safer.
* * *
Kinley woke up to find Beau leaning over the bags with nothing but a white towel around his waist. He rose to his full height as their eyes met. He looked so hot all mussed, disheveled. He made scruffy look so damn sexy. She worked at fighting off the waves of lust inspired by just looking at him.
There was a distinct reason she couldn’t keep her hands, her eyes, her mouth off him. The way he’d looked when he was talking to that customs officer after he got just a tiny bit rough with her. He’d been dressed all in white. A white polo that fit him like a second skin, delineating every muscle in his torso, hugging his broad shoulders, the material stretching around his biceps, showing just the bottom of his sexy chain tattoo. The white, casually elegant pants had encased his long legs, the cuffs rolled up to show strong ankles above a pair of white deck shoes.
Women had been passing by him, unable to take their eyes off him as he made it clear without even raising his voice to the guard that his wife wouldn’t be treated with anything but kid gloves. His jaw had been hard and stubbled with beard, all the lines of his body showing the barely leashed power and grace of every big, bad boy who’d ever been at the top of the food chain. The thing that made her heart skip a beat...he hadn’t been pretending or playacting. He was downright serious.
He reached for something in one of the bags and the towel came unraveled, and just that easily she unraveled right along with it. It slipped off his waist, baring his hip, the globe of his butt revealing a tat inked right at the top of his thigh. All in. He caught at the terry before it fell fully off him. She hadn’t seen him in the light of day and the scars and healed wounds on him only made her heart tighten even more.
How she wanted him to let it fall.
She sat up knowing that they didn’t have time for this. Unable to help herself, she scooted across the mattress on her knees until she reached him. There was a rounded scar on his shoulder, a long, easily recognizable knife slash, long healed along his rib cage.
“Don’t do it,” he said, whisper soft. “You do it and it’s over. I’m not going to be responsible for my actions because, chérie, you make me freaking crazy. I’m about to say to hell with clothes and climb up into bed, right into your waiting arms, and into your warm and willing body.”
She ran her hands through her hair instead of touching him. “Later, then,” she said, giving him one more look and crawling to the other side of the bed.
“Yeah, work. Focus on that and take deep breaths,” he said, holding the towel at his waist, covering up that tantalizing tattoo she wanted to know more about. But he was right. It was time to focus on the mission they were here for.
He picked through the first bag as she unbuckled the beautiful tan sandals and slipped out of them one by one. Barefoot she stood.
“How did you know my size?”
“I guessed. I think I came close, but if something doesn’t fit, we can exchange it. I told the salesgirl I couldn’t possibly be bothered with remembering your delectable measurements. I just took advantage of them.”
“Nice,” he said, giving her a sidelong look, his wet hair framing his face.
“I said it with a lot of affection.”
“Cute.” He held boxers and T-shirts. “This is all good, but I think I’m going to need a bit more to be presentable.”
“Ha-ha.” She snorted. “You are definitely cute. I kinda like you the way you’re dressed, but I guess I’d have to fight off the female masses if you went out like that. I’ll have to fight them off, anyway.”
He rolled his eyes. “I only have eyes for my wife, even if she can’t be bothered with my measurements.”
“I’m only interested in bothering with one particular measurement.”
He dropped his chin and chuckled, a pained sound. “You’re killing me, ma belle.”
She grinned. “There are shirts and pants hanging in the closet.” He grinned back at her, the twinkle in his eyes potent. Even with a sea of bed between them, there was still a shiver of danger racing all over her skin. Grabbing a bag, her nerves jittering as his eyes tracked her to the bathroom, she paused when he said, “Kinley.”
She turned toward him and he rounded the bed. Her pulse surged when he tucked the towel end tightly against his waist. Reaching her, he leaned against the doorjamb. Even in the expansive room, she felt...crowded.
“I’ve been wondering all damn day about that little string keeping you together. One tug...?”
She gave him a provocative smile.
He reached out and fingered the string under her breast and her heart rate raced. Her brows rose on a dare.
He leaned toward her and she drew in a deep breath. He smelled so f
resh and clean. A drop of water from his wet hair dropped right between her breasts. She shivered.
“Mmm,” he said, “You make it so hard...to focus.”
He pulled the string and the dress loosened around her. As it parted, he brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. “So hard.”
She curled her hand around his nape, delving into his thick, wet hair, and pulled his mouth down to hers for a quick kiss. “You’re a SEAL, you have the willpower.”
“Hooyah,” he replied softly against her mouth, pressing his mouth to hers. His kiss wasn’t quick.
He let her go. “Is your curiosity satisfied?” she asked.
“For now,” he said with promise as he stepped back. She wasted no more time scooting into the bathroom and closing the door.
She took her time in the shower, her stomach rumbling. Turning off the water and stepping out, she vigorously rubbed her hair dry and faced the mirror to take on the arduous task of transforming herself into a rich party girl. She agreed with Beau. She didn’t like the idea that they were meeting at a dance club. There were too many things that could go wrong.
But even though she didn’t exactly trust Daniel personally, he was very good at what he did professionally.
She gripped the sink, her insides going a little haywire. She trusted Beau, both personally and professionally. Completely. With her heart and with her life. She knew he still had questions about her—in his position, he’d be a fool not to—but the fact that he’d given her any latitude with choosing guns had been gratifying, to say the least. He’d wanted to balk, and that had given her a momentary pang, but despite whatever misgivings he was still harboring, he’d stood by his promise and sanctioned it.
After her hair was dry, she did an elaborate reverse braid to the side. Pulling out the short, red-ribbed stretchy skirt with a form-fitting matching white top, she sighed. So not her style. The tight tank had built-in support and didn’t require a bra, and panties under the skirt would show lines. Slipping into the red lace thong that cost way too much for so little material, she felt extremely...underdressed.
She took a breath before she opened the bathroom door and stepped outside. He was talking on the phone, but she could smell something delectable coming from the dining room in this obscenely priced suite.
He stopped talking and stared. She moved into the room and drifted past him. He shook his head and started talking again.
“No, I was...distracted for a minute, Chris. Continue.”
He was talking to his boss. Probably briefing him. She should check in with Kirk, but she was too hungry right now. She settled into a chair and sent her eyes over Beau.
He was dressed in a gorgeous high-end blue silk shirt. The minute she’d seen it, she knew it would suit him. The rich colors accented his black hair and dark skin. The blue brought out the midnight in his eyes.
He’d paired it with a pair of cropped black linen pants and a pair of black canvas deck shoes.
He disconnected the call and sat down. Dishing up some of the salad he’d ordered, he said quietly, “Where exactly are you going to...ah...stash a weapon?”
“Thigh holster.”
He coughed a little as if something had gone down wrong. She patted his back. Before he could reply, there was a knock on the door and Beau rose and opened it for Daniel.
“You ready to go?” he asked, his eyes taking her in just like Beau’s had. Daniel’s gaze used to do something to her insides, but now Beau elicited tsunami-like waves that swamped everything else.
“Yes, I’ll be right there.”
Daniel knew it. She wasn’t sure if he was resigned to it. It was true that she wasn’t sure where she was going with Beau now that things had gotten more complicated. But now was not the time to get her head messed up about that. She needed to be on her game.
“I’ll get the car.” He disappeared out the door and closed it behind him.
“Don’t let your guard down for a moment. Regardless of the fact that Daniel is supposed to watch your back.”
“Meaning you don’t think I can handle picking up a few guns?”
“No, it’s not that. I know better than anyone that you can handle yourself. It’s just...I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
The way he said it, the look on his face, made her heart squeeze. She tried to ignore that and focus on business, even though she knew that wasn’t at all what he meant. “But you just said you know I could take care—”
“I didn’t say it was logical, or rational. It’s... I’m a caveman.” He smiled. “And, trust me, it’s not something I’m proud of, either.”
“Then don’t,” she said, even as her insides were melting a little. No one had ever cared enough to be that concerned about her, not since her father. “I will manage.”
He reached across the table and covered her hand, looking away. “I can’t guarantee anything. After living through enough battles in my time on the teams, I err on the side of caution. We were a team, but we lost guys just as fast as a blink of an eye. Couldn’t be foreseen.” He looked at her. “We make a good team.” His smile returned, but there was something tender, almost vulnerable in it. “I like us together on and off the playing field.”
She couldn’t manage to look away, couldn’t seem to find whatever it was she had left that would keep her head strictly on business. “We do. We so do,” she said, relieved to be honest with him. “This is not a conversation for now, though.”
“You go, but watch your gorgeous backside.”
She got up and slipped on a pair of slinky red sandals with a flat heel. She never knew when she would have to run. “I will.”
She went to slip out the door, but Beau caught her arm and spun her against him. “Ma belle, I’m partial to SIG Sauer or a HK45C. With the HK, two hits—one hitting the tango and the tango hitting the ground.”
His mouth dropped to hers, the kiss hard and quick.
“I’ll bring you something good back,” she said, shivers running down her spine.
Chapter 11
He scoped out La Casa del Luna. He did his damn recon job, the whole time thinking about Kinley going to a gun buy in body-hugging spandex and if he had to guess, she wasn’t wearing panties under that skirt. Jesus. A thigh holster. What did she think this was? Spy games?
He sat across the street watching the club. It was on a busy street downtown. There was nothing out of the ordinary going on over there that any other run-of-the-mill club wouldn’t be doing right before a huge dance party was going to raise the roof. It was thirty minutes before it opened and another thirty before they were to meet Daniel’s contact.
Damn, he didn’t like it. There were too many exits. He rose, not crossing until he could duck into the alley just past the entrance. He made his way down the narrow littered walkway, which smelled of spicy rice and beans. The alley dumped out into an area that butted up against abandoned ramshackle apartments and a shabby warehouse just beyond it that looked like it was ready to come down. It was probably slated for demolition.
He crossed back over and went behind the club, but found nothing out of the ordinary. It would be hard to find someplace to make a stand. Not that he wanted a street shoot-out. If they were caught by the Cuban police they would lock all three of them up for being in possession of illegal firearms and they could kiss Diego Montoya and his possible terrorist connection goodbye.
That bastard, el Ajeer, was planning something and he was either being backed by the Las Espadas or he was backing them. Many terrorists turned to drugs as a way to fund their war of fear. But he was elusive and careful.
That’s why they couldn’t afford for anything to go wrong. Not a damn thing.
He came around the other side of the club and was satisfied that he knew all points of egress, and was already formulating contingency p
lans in preparation for any worst-case scenarios.
The place was opening up and Beau spied Daniel and Kinley walking toward the club. He crossed the street to greet them.
“How did it go?” he asked.
“Smooth,” Daniel said.
“He was too jumpy for me,” Kinley said.
“He’s in a jumpy business.”
“He was sweating.”
“It’s frigging hot out, Kinley.”
Uh-oh, they’d been arguing, and he figured she must have told him there was no chance for them. That made him want to smile, but he was more interested in what Kinley was saying.
“It wasn’t that kind of sweating,” she said through gritted teeth.
“You’re overreacting.”
Daniel walked away from her and into the club. She leaned toward Beau and slipped the clipped holster against the small of his back and an extra clip into his pants pocket. “I got you the HK.”
“Nice.” A weapon he was very familiar with. “You okay?”
“Daniel’s pissed at me. I told him that the gun dealer was acting hinky, but all he wanted to talk about was us.”
“You and me?”
“No. Him and me.”
“And?”
“Oh, God, not you, too. This isn’t a damn soap opera.”
“Kinley...”
“You already know what I told him,” she whispered. “And he didn’t take it well. We’ll talk about this later. I think we should keep sharp, Beau. I got a bad feeling about all of this.”
“All right.”
They walked into the club and the music inside was in full swing. A lively beat, very Spanish and stirring as all Latin music was. The place was filling fast.
