Perfect Strangers

by Barbara J. Hancock

“You aren’t that much younger than me, Graybeard.”

  He grinned and gave a sheepish shrug.

  “Sorry.”

  Piper Jo waved his apology aside.

  “It has to be Silk. I’ve never been bothered by the government before, unless you count Davis and he’s no bother.” Piper arched one eyebrow when she referred to the muscle-bound agent.

  Solstice rolled his eyes when she attempted a lascivious grin.

  “His buddies burnt your home to the ground,” he reminded her.

  “Davis didn’t know they were going to do it. He wouldn’t have stood for that. He would have warned me or stopped them. I think he’s out of the loop.”

  “So, someone else at the FBI is after Silk and Davis has her.”

  “Well, she’s with him. He doesn’t have much say in it.” Piper chuckled, remembering how nice it was to see the steady and stoic Rule up against someone capable of giving him hell.

  “At least she’s not alone. These guys are playing dirty.” Solstice looked darkly at the scratch on his arm.

  “I’d say she’s about as alone as a body can get. Partner murdered and so far from home. But she’s tough. She’ll handle ’em all.”

  Meadows walked over to the wall and squinted at the many images vying for attention. He probably needed glasses, but didn’t want to admit it.

  “Hell, even Batman had Robin,” he said, nodding to a particularly graphic drawing of the Caped Crusader.

  “Wonder Woman didn’t need anybody,” Piper joked. She didn’t like the look Sol had in his eyes.

  “What about the Super Friends?” Now he was flat out scaring her. He had an expression on his face not unlike the ones worn by the wall full of heroes at his side.

  “We aren’t super, Solstice. You can’t even talk to whales.” Piper tried. She really did, but even humor didn’t dull Sol’s enthusiasm.

  “I don’t think she needs super. I think she needs friends,” he insisted with a stubborn tilt to his chin.

  “What do you propose we do? How can two senior citizens take on the FBI and alien assassins?” Piper felt the panic of yesterday return full force. Her friend was going to get them killed. She was a grandmother for heaven’s sake.

  “We go commando. That’s how.” Sol’s grin did nothing to ease Piper’s fear.

  Silk stepped from the bathroom to find Rule calmly waiting on the edge of the bed nearest the bathroom door. The look on his face was cold and harsh. He wasn’t waiting for his turn.

  “Hand over the gun, Silk.” His tone dared her to refuse.

  So of course, she did.

  Chapter Ten

  Davis expected Silk to deny that she had a gun in the little backpack she’d had since the night she’d clonked him on the head. He didn’t expect her to slowly put her arms through the straps and hoist the pack onto her back.

  “I don’t want this to get ugly,” he warned. He maintained his position on the bed…for now.

  “It will,” Silk replied. She stood in another soft fuzzy sweater and hip-hugging jeans. She looked more like a teenager than a threat with her damp hair and fresh-scrubbed face. He knew better.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” Davis rose and took a step in her direction.

  “You will not.” He didn’t like the confidence in her voice. She wasn’t afraid.

  “Are you going to give me the gun?”

  She answered that with a no in the form of a kick—a Ked-flavored kiss against the side of his face.

  Davis rolled with it, down to the floor and then up again so that the blow didn’t pack as much wallop as it would have if he had held firm.

  He rose quickly and tackled low, bringing Silk down beneath him on the puke-green carpet that smelled oddly worse than it looked.

  “I’m bigger than you,” he said, wondering why he had to say it when his body was mashing hers flat.

  “Size doesn’t matter,” Silk grunted and proved what she meant by wrapping both legs around his middle and executing a roll that brought her on top.

  “It doesn’t have to be like this.” Davis looked up at her. His brain knew they were fighting. His body was reacting as if it knew something his brain didn’t. She was serious. She was deadly. She was also sexy as hell straddling his thighs.

  “Yes, it does. It does have to be like this,” Silk insisted. “I am not your prisoner. I have never been your prisoner. You are not my partner. You could never be my partner.”

  Something in him resented the implication that the glorious Me-lows had shoes too big for him to fill. He might be humoring her more than he should, but he was a damn fine investigator, and he could certainly handle this woman—whether she was on top or not.

  “You don’t want me to be your partner.” He sensed something in her. Warmth spread from her body to his as she reacted to the hardening she must feel between her thighs. He saw something in her eyes—a heat, a hunger—that made him continue. “You just want me, period.”

  Silk’s hands were on his shoulders, his hands reached to grip her bottom and pull her even closer than she was. Her eyes widened and he held his breath. She would either deck him or kiss him. He prepared for either, for both.

  “We have no time for this, Rule.”

  He didn’t know if she meant fighting or fornication, but he knew he would explode without one or the other. The energy between them needed an outlet. Suddenly, despite his reservations about her past, his vote was on the later.

  “Make time, Jones.”

  Her eyes went all liquid fire when he voiced the request in a hoarse, needy whisper. Finally, after one long aching moment of suspense, she obliged.

  Rule was big and warm beneath her, and Silk brought her mouth down to his as if she could soak up some of that warmth. Parts of her were on fire, parts of her—the inner most depths of her soul—felt like they had not experienced a thaw in an age.

  His lips were full and hot and sweet. His hands moved from her bottom up to the back of her head. She enjoyed the large, warm palms and the spread of his fingers through her hair. She enjoyed the trembling she felt in his thumbs as he slid them forward to caress her cheeks. His tongue met hers and followed it, questing into her mouth to dip and whirl and tease.

  He was hard for her. She could feel—had felt as soon as he had pressed her to the floor.

  “Make time.” He had said, asking her for this mating between them.

  Silk felt the time he had asked for stand still as they kissed. Nothing else mattered as their hips moved together.

  Davis had shaved before her turn in the bathroom. The skin of his face was smooth, and the scent of spice filled her nose. He gasped when she broke away from his lips to nudge her nose along his cheek and down to his neck, breathing in his scent and using the tip of her tongue to taste the hollow at the base of his throat.

  “We can do better than this,” Davis said gruffly as he sat up. He lifted her with him, “Come on.” He stood and paused for a long moment as she wrapped her legs around his waist and dove her mouth down for another taste of his. This time he was a little salty as the heat between them generated perspiration above his lip. She took his lip between hers and sucked.

  His groan vibrated against her chest as he fell back onto the bed. She took advantage of the pause to pull her sweater up and over her head. The backpack went with it and fell in a heap, forgotten, on the floor.

  Davis groaned again and lifted his hands up to undo the bra that cupped her breasts. She sat up, allowing him to look his fill as they were freed. Her nipples were already taunt and achy.

  “This can’t be slow, Silk. Not this time.”

  His hands replaced the satin bra. Warm, calloused palms felt much better than cloth.

  “I do not need slow, Davis. I do not want slow.”

  She helped him pull off his shirt. He assured her that buttons were replaceable. She slid his pants down muscled thighs. He insisted that halfway was good enough.

  She stood to pull off her own pants while Davis slid
free of the last white barrier between them. He looked almost bound by the garments twisted at his knees, just waiting for her to take him. He was made well. His hard member jutted up to his stomach. She felt her body’s wet response as it anticipated the feel of him inside of her.

  Then anticipation was over. She caressed her palms through the light sprinkling of dark hair on his chest as she straddled him. Davis reached for her, guided her down, held her bottom as she took him in.

  He was long and hot and filled her so well that she gasped from the sensation of heated, hard flesh sliding into her. And he did slide, easily. She was slick, ready. When he lifted his hips, her gasp was not a protest. She met him with a counter move, a downward thrust meant to meld them together. It did. The entire length of him was wrapped by her.

  Silk licked her lips and found salty perspiration there as well. Davis took it as an invitation. He sat up just enough to reach up and pull her face down to his. Then they were matching the rhythm of their tongues with the rhythm of their bodies.

  Her breasts slid on his chest as he slid between her thighs. She was tender—it had been so long. The sliding, his tongue, him so good, so connected to her…

  She peaked, and her movements stilled as she rode with it. Davis moaned and made up for her stillness with movements of his own. His hands gripped her hips as he tensed. She felt her muscles contracting around him as he hardened to the point of almost being painful inside of her, and then he climaxed. She nuzzled into his neck and nipped the skin under his chin as he filled her. His head was thrown back, his curls damp and messy. She brushed them back from his face.

  “I will keep the gun, Rule.”

  She did not wait for him to respond. He was relaxed beneath her. Too relaxed to argue. She was suddenly out of her element. She did not know how to handle an aftermath with a man who wasn’t…

  Silk rose from the bed and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

  Davis didn’t like it. He felt like a fool. Women who looked like Silk must be used to getting their way. Especially with lovers.

  He lay half-naked in the middle of twisted sheets. Hell, he hadn’t even been in control enough to remove his clothes. Now she thought she was calling the shots.

  Suddenly, he wondered if Silk was as crazy as he’d thought.

  He didn’t know what was worse. Thinking she had planned this with cold, calculated logic or thinking that he’d taken advantage of an imbalanced woman.

  Then again, he was the one laid out on the bed like some sort of offering. Davis shifted around to pull up his pants. He jumped up from the bed, not wanting to think of what Silk may or may not do should she find him there when she finished her shower.

  He needed to stay focused.

  His foot bumped into something soft yet solid on the floor. Silk’s blue sweater, and under it her backpack.

  Chapter Eleven

  Once again, Silk exited the bathing room with her focus back where it belonged—on Ronin. She was pleased to see Rule dressed.

  “We must leave. We have been here too long.”

  She pulled on her jeans and moved to pick up the blue sweater. It had been moved. It still lay on the floor where she had dropped it, but it had been moved.

  Slowly, Silk bent to retrieve it, very conscious of Davis and where he was in the room. As she lifted the sweater, the backpack was revealed. It looked the same and all of its fasteners, zippers, were closed.

  She pulled the sweater over her head and shot a glance in Rule’s direction. He was tossing his ruined shirt into the trash receptacle. He did not look her way as she reached to lift the backpack from the floor. She realized she was holding her breath when the weight of the bag made her release it in a soundless sigh.

  He had not taken the gun.

  Silk began to thread her arms through the straps, but paused long enough to unzip the compartment that held the weapon. Now that Rule knew it was there, she would leave it open in case she needed it quickly.

  Davis watched her as she did this, his movements stilled. When she put the opened bag on her back, he continued across the room.

  “It’s a good thing this next guy you want to contact doesn’t live in Alaska,” he began. His words were interrupted by the motel room door.

  Cheap wood splintered with a loud crack as the door flew open and bounced against the wall. Two armed men entered, crouched low, guns high.

  They’re not IL-Bah.

  Silk’s body relaxed as she noticed this. Cornered in the tiny room by two IL-Bah would be bad. Two men, she could handle.

  “Larkin. Steele,” Davis said as if he greeted old friends.

  Three men. She could handle three men. Would she have to?

  She looked to Davis Rule. His words were friendly, but there was tension on his face. And this Larkin and Steele did not lower their weapons.

  “Rule. You’re screwed this time.”

  “Screwed,” Steele laughed and his eyes shifted to the rumpled bed. “Well and truly screwed.”

  “What’s up, gentlemen?” Rule asked. Deadly calm was evident in every syllable.

  Steele snickered as if Rule had just told a joke.

  “Up,” he said, becoming a weird echo to the proceedings.

  “Seems you’ve gotten a little distracted, my man.” Larkin had his gun leveled on Rule. He moved closer to Silk. “Not that I can blame you.”

  His gun was aimed at Davis, but his eyes were directed at Silk. His hot gaze slid over her body from head to toe, lingering on her braless chest.

  “Did you think Kale was just going to let you take a sexy sabbatical funded with evidence?”

  “I haven’t touched the money,” Davis stated, flat and truthful.

  “No, not the money,” Steele echoed with a laugh.

  Larkin smiled a thin, oily smile.

  “He doesn’t say he hadn’t touched you, does he?”

  Steele had moved to Rule’s side, his gun level with the larger man’s chest.

  “The big guy resisted the bucks, but he couldn’t resist this.” Larkin used his gun to brush across one of her breasts. He used the metal to tease her around the nipple, a sick caress.

  In one smooth, fast move, Silk reached her hand back and drew the 9mm from her bag. She pressed it to the middle of Larkin’s forehead. His face went ashen as his eyes crossed to focus on the gun.

  “Drop your weapon,” she advised.

  Though her attention was focused on Larkin, she heard a wet thwack followed by a howl. From the corner of her eye, she saw Steele fall to his knees with his hands over his nose and mouth. His hands turned red as blood seeped through his fingers.

  “Shit, oh shit, man, I didn’t touch her.” His whine was nasal and muffled by gory fingers.

  Larkin dropped his gun. Silk pressed hers harder against his head.

  “Wait, Silk. You can’t kill him.” Davis moved toward them.

  Perhaps it will be three after all.

  “If you kill him, they’ll hunt you down with every available resource. You’ll never get the chance to find Ronin.”

  Larkin was a white statue. He waited for her to decide.

  Silk knocked Larkin’s legs out from under him and brought the hand-cushioned butt of her weapon down on the back of his head. The man fell face forward onto the carpet. Davis did not interfere.

  “We have wasted enough time here.”

  “Right. Wasted,” Davis muttered.

  She barely noticed Rule digging into the front pocket of his pants as she tucked the useful gun into her waistband.

  “Just so you know, this doesn’t mean I’ve changed sides. They work for Kale and I don’t trust Kale. End of story.” Davis came close with his hand outstretched.

  Her full attention was caught when he turned and opened his fist. There in his palm gleamed a pile of ammunition. The bullets from her 9mm.

  “You might need these next time,” he said, spilling them into her hand. He turned to lift Steele from the floor.

  Silk
reloaded her weapon. Surprise, mortification and admiration warred within her chest. Rule had outmaneuvered her. Her shock and embarrassment were only slightly appeased by the hot curl of lust his cleverness reawakened.

  She tried to ignore her desire as they worked together without words. The bathroom made a fine holding cell. As Davis handcuffed Steele to the towel rack, he watched her lift Larkin.

  “Where do you hide the muscle?”

  Silk dumped Larkin in the bathtub. She walked by Rule and briefly pressed a finger against one of his impressive biceps.

  “Brawn is not the only indicator of strength.”

  “No,” Rule replied as he shut the bathroom door. He twisted the knob until it was bent, fashioning a makeshift lock for the makeshift jail. “But it comes in handy at times.”

  Silk felt her body respond to the emphasis Rule placed on “at times”. He had been strong and more than enough in her arms and between her thighs. He truly was magnificent, physically and mentally.

  But that was over.

  She could not dwell on their coupling. She had business to attend. She had a life to reclaim and the day was already speeding away from her.

  Chapter Twelve

  The tower rose up from the middle of an overgrown field in Mercer County, Pennsylvania. From the road, it looked abandoned, like some ancient ruin left to crumble alone and forgotten. It was built of gray stone blocks, but the blocks must have been a hundred years old.

  Davis explained that the cylindrical structure was called a silo and it had once been used to store feed for cattle. Hamburgers. Silk swallowed. Better to chew the dusty grain.

  They had no choice but to park in the open. The little white car they had purchased in the last town was not hidden in the tall grass by the road, but at least it wasn’t the sedan. They had left that in a parking lot. It would be found, but not until they were far away. And it should be some time before the FBI discovered what they now relied upon for transport.

  Evidence of occupancy became apparent as they approached the silo. To the rear, a camouflaged satellite dish pointed to the sky. And at intervals along the silo’s wall, stone blocks had been removed. Glass now covered these holes, making a dozen miniature windows.