by LENA DIAZ,
The kid stood with his back to the main street. No one passing by on the sidewalk would notice anything unusual, just two men facing each other, talking. Unless someone stepped into the alley, they wouldn’t see the gun.
“How’d you manage to get a gun into the police station without setting off the alarms?” Devlin asked, mildly impressed.
“I didn’t. I hid several weapons outside before going in. Regardless of which way you went when you left, I could be armed in less than a minute.”
He sounded pleased with himself, cocky, which was just fine with Devlin. Arrogance could make a man careless, overconfident, vulnerable.
“Well played,” he said.
The kid nodded, his face flushing beneath the praise. Good grief. He was definitely a rookie. And he looked too young to have even left home yet. Were they recruiting them right out of high school now instead of college? Suddenly Devlin felt every one of his thirty-four years. He motioned toward the gun. “Is that really necessary?”
“Considering your reputation, yeah. It’s necessary.”
Well that answered one of Devlin’s questions—whether the kid was with EXIT as he’d suspected. He certainly didn’t have a reputation anywhere else.
“You have me at a disadvantage. You know who I am, but I don’t know you.”
The kid’s mouth scrunched, as if he were debating whether to say anything.
“It’s just a name, kid,” Devlin said. “I can call you anything. Doesn’t matter to me if it’s your real name or not.”
His shoulders stiffened at the “kid” label. “Cougar. My name’s Cougar.”
Devlin barely managed not to roll his eyes. Cub would have been far more fitting for a rookie like this one.
“You do know that pulling a gun on another enforcer is against the code we’re sworn to uphold?”
“You’ve pointed guns at other enforcers plenty of times.”
Devlin tipped his head in acknowledgment. “True, but only in the course of doing my job of going after rogues. Since I haven’t gone rogue, you’ve got no reason to point your weapon at me. Put it away. Now.”
His brows drew together as if he were confused, but he didn’t lower his gun. “You need to come back to headquarters with me, sir. Cyprian’s orders.”
Code words for “get out of this public place so I can kill you without witnesses.”
“Why?”
“Not my concern. I’m just following orders.”
“Tell you what,” Devlin said. “Put your gun away and I’ll call Cyprian,” he bluffed, trying to buy some time. “If he confirms that he wants to see me, I’ll go. But I’m sure not going anywhere with you holding a gun on me.”
Uncertainty flickered in Cougar’s eyes. He’d been told Devlin had gone rogue, but Devlin wasn’t acting like it. A rogue wouldn’t offer to call the man who’d ordered the hit on him.
Devlin flexed his right hand around the scrap of lumber. Could he buy himself a couple of seconds if he threw the board at Cougar? If the kid hesitated even a little bit, Devlin could take advantage of the two mistakes the rookie had already made—standing too close and not ordering him to move away from the Dumpster. If the kid ducked to avoid the board, all Devlin had to do was give the Dumpster a huge shove. If his aim were true, it would hit Cougar, knocking him down and hopefully sending his derringer flying. The metal Dumpster would also provide good cover.
“All right.” He tensed, ready to make his move. “I can be reasonable, even if you’re not. My truck is—”
“You won’t need your truck.”
“I can’t leave it parked in the police lot. They’ll get suspicious, start asking questions. The company wouldn’t want that.”
His gaze flicked to the top of the roof to Devlin’s left. Then he smiled.
Shoot. The kid’s handler had arrived. Things had just gotten complicated.
“Don’t worry about the truck. It’s taken care of.” Cougar’s voice was smug, confident now that his babysitter was nearby.
If Cougar wasn’t worried about the truck, then his handler had already removed Devlin’s hidden gun and had hidden a GPS tracker somewhere inside, just in case Devlin got away and tried to drive it.
Damn. He’d really loved that truck.
Cougar fairly beamed at Devlin, certain he was about to bag his mark. Devlin could well imagine the bull his handler had fed him, being specifically chosen for the honor of bringing in the Enforcer. He’d been puffed up with importance, when in reality he was like the redshirt on a Star Trek episode—the expendable man, always the first to die. They’d sent the rookie in to see if Devlin would cooperate, fully prepared to let Cougar pay the price if he put up a fight. He almost felt sorry for the kid.
“Police, drop your weapon!” O’Malley’s voice rang out from behind Cougar.
Ah, hell.
She was standing a few feet behind Cougar, slightly off to his right. Her gun was shaking so hard he was surprised she didn’t drop it. Devlin’s stomach sank. What was she thinking, to put herself in danger like this? There was an entire building full of cops across the street. If she thought he needed help, she should have gone for backup instead of putting herself in the line of fire. He was so furious he wanted to shake her. But first he had to save her.
Cougar’s knuckles had whitened on the derringer’s grip. He was just as nervous as O’Malley.
Devlin had to calm the kid down, make sure he thought this through. He needed to remind the kid that killing a cop was forbidden. There was no reason for Cougar or his handler to consider her a threat to EXIT. As long as that held true, she was safe.
He subtly shook his head, trying to warn Cougar off.
The kid just stared at him, his eyes wide and uncertain. He didn’t have a clue what to do.
“Drop the weapon,” O’Malley repeated, her voice tight, squeaking just a little, just enough to transmit her nervousness.
Cougar picked up on that nervousness. His gaze shot up to a spot somewhere over Devlin’s left shoulder. The tension in Cougar seemed to drain right out of him. His handler must have given him some kind of signal. The kid was back in his cocky, self-assured mode again. Which meant he was not dangerous to only himself but to everyone around him. He raised his hands as if to surrender and slowly turned to face O’Malley.
Please, O’Malley. Don’t panic. No sudden moves.
“Drop your weapon, now,” she demanded.
Cougar immediately tossed the derringer to the ground.
That was way too easy. Slowly, so as not to draw attention, Devlin turned his head, looking for the handler. There, a shadow at the top of the building, moving to the mouth of the alley. He had O’Malley covered.
“Come out from behind the Dumpster, Devlin,” she ordered.
Now that he was glad to do, so he could get closer to her and to Cougar.
Leaving the piece of lumber sitting on the metal ledge, he stepped beside his fellow enforcer. The rookie glanced at him, his cocky self-assurance firmly in place. Devlin would have loved nothing more than to punch that naïve arrogance right out of him.
“Officer O’Malley.” Devlin gave her one of his best smiles. “This isn’t what it looks like. Steve here”—he waved in Cougar’s direction—“is an old buddy of mine. He was just joking around. His gun isn’t even loaded. There’s no reason to be alarmed.”
Cougar smiled. “Yes, that’s right. I’m an old buddy of Devlin’s. We were goofing off. Sorry about that, Officer.”
She took a few steps closer. “Goofing off, huh?” She eyed him up and down. “How do you two know each other? Are you one of those alleged tour guides from EXIT like Devlin?”
Devlin winced. That was the worst thing she could have said.
“The gun makes sense,” she continued, “if you’re a trained assassin too.”
No. That was the worst thing she could have said.
He noted the subtle tensing of Cougar’s body. O’Malley was fishing, trying to get information. She didn’t re
ally know anything and she certainly couldn’t prove anything, but Cougar didn’t know that. His handler didn’t know that. From their perspective, she knew EXIT’s true mission.
She’d just become their primary target.
Devlin forced a laugh and desperately tried to salvage the situation. “I told you already, Officer O’Malley. That theory of yours is all wrong. We’re—”
Cougar’s eyes flicked upward. A signal. He dodged to the right, toward his gun lying on the ground.
Devlin lunged forward, grabbing O’Malley’s gun out of her hand, jerking her toward the mouth of the alley just as a puff of concrete exploded where she’d been standing. The shooter on top of the building had targeted her, and he had a silencer.
She cursed and struggled against Devlin. He twisted and pulled her around the corner of the building just as another puff of concrete exploded near their feet, this time from Cougar’s gun, which barked loudly. But the small caliber made it sound more like a car backfiring than a gunshot. None of the pedestrians on the sidewalk out front seemed to even notice.
He clasped her small body against him, shoved her gun down the front of his pants, and whisked her into the diner. She pushed at his chest, struggling to break free.
“Let me go,” she demanded, squirming in his arms.
The café was bustling with diners eating breakfast before beginning their day. Unfortunately, about half of them were wearing uniforms. There was no way he could haul O’Malley through the building to the rear exit as he’d hoped.
“Devlin, I mean it. Let me go now, or I swear I’ll scream. Every police officer in this place will come down on you.”
An elderly couple waiting to be seated stared at them in alarm.
Devlin winked at them before grinning down at her. “Ah, honey, I told you I was sorry. Just let me explain.”
He pulled her down the short hallway beside the entrance that led to the restrooms. When she opened her mouth, no doubt to make good on her threat to scream, he clamped his mouth down on hers.
Knowing the couple was watching, and that dozens of cops were one shout away, he had to convince them O’Malley wasn’t really in trouble. He had to make it look like they were having a lovers’ spat. As he pulled her closer to the restrooms, he poured everything he had into that kiss. He cradled the back of her head with one hand so she couldn’t break free and clasped her body tightly against his so she couldn’t kick him like she was trying to. He didn’t dare use his tongue for fear that she’d bite him, but he expertly molded his lips to hers, teasing, tasting, caressing, breathing her breath into his lungs.
By the time he’d hauled her through the door marked LADIES and into the extra-large handicapped stall, the feel of her soft breasts crushed against him had his pulse rushing in his ears. He should have stopped kissing her, but suddenly kissing her was all he could think about. He was consumed by the warmth of her body pressed to his, the delicate, flowery scent of her shampoo, the unexpected sweetness of her soft lips. If half of EXIT’s enforcers came for him right now, he couldn’t have stopped kissing her.
Because, by some miracle, she’d started kissing him back.
The moment her lips turned beneath his and moved against him in wanton abandon, all logical thought ceased to exist.
He thrust his tongue inside her warm, welcoming mouth and pressed her back against the stall door. She answered his every demand with her own, her tongue dueling with his, her heat scorching him from the inside out. When she moaned low in her throat, he gave an answering growl and slid his hand down her back to the delicious curve of her bottom. He lifted her against his thigh, reveling in the soft feel of her through her clothing, the heat of her that branded itself on him.
A toilet flushed in the next stall.
They jerked apart, gasping for air, as the other person in the restroom muttered something about “rude people” and “get a room” before yanking the main door open.
O’Malley’s eyes widened. No, Emily’s eyes widened. He could never think of her as O’Malley again after this.
She laughed, then covered her mouth, as if shocked at herself. She stared at him, confusion chasing a myriad of other emotions across her expressive features as she obviously tried to make sense of what had just happened.
Devlin was just as confused as she was. It was a kiss—a hot, intense kiss—but still, it was just a kiss. And yet, every nerve ending inside him felt as if it had been seared and left raw. His erection strained against the front of his pants. And his arms ached, ached, to pull her soft curves against him again. His hands shook as he adjusted his pants to ease the pressure.
Emily’s gaze dipped down, then shot back to his, her cheeks flooding with color.
He spread his hands in a helpless gesture, struggling for words that would make sense of a kiss that had not only tilted his world but knocked it completely off its axis.
A knock sounded on the main door. “Ma’am, sir, I’m Mr. Hutchins, the manager,” a man’s voice called. “Another patron complained that you were in here together. I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave.”
Emily’s confusion turned to horror. Her eyes silently begged him to do something.
He cleared his throat, then cleared it again before he trusted his ability to speak. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hutchins,” he called out. “My wife and I had an argument and needed some privacy to . . . resolve our differences. We’ll be right out.”
“Two minutes or I’m sending the police in after you.” Footsteps sounded outside the door and rapidly faded away.
Emily shoved the door to the handicapped stall open and ran into the main bathroom. She turned on the water, wet a paper towel, and pressed it to her heated cheeks.
Devlin watched with regret as the disheveled seductress disappeared and was replaced by the all-business policewoman. She patted down her hair, adjusted her clothes, and whirled around to face him. The only sign of the passion they’d shared was her lips, still swollen from his kiss. Which just made him want to kiss her all over again.
She held out her hand. “Give me back my gun.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Emily—”
“Detective O’Malley,” she snapped.
He sighed. Did she really expect him to call her that after sticking his tongue down her throat? The woman didn’t have any idea how much she’d affected him. Which was probably a good thing.
“I can’t give you the gun,” he said. “Not yet. Not until it’s safe.”
“Safe? For whom?”
“For me. I don’t want you shooting me just because of a misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding?” she squeaked. “I hope you’re referring to the kiss, because what happened in that alley was no misunderstanding. That so-called friend of yours shot at us. And there was someone else there, on top of the building, someone who took the first shot. He had a silencer. What is going on?”
“The kiss wasn’t a misunderstanding. It was . . . incredible.”
Her eyes widened. When he didn’t say anything else, she said, “And the alley? The shooting?”
“Give me a minute.”
“For what?”
He grinned and held his hands out in a gesture of helplessness. “To come up with a plausible-sounding lie?”
She rolled her eyes. “Now that I believe. Nothing you’ve told me so far has been the truth, has it? Well, I’ll tell you the truth. Kidnapping a police officer will get you in prison for decades, and that’s just the first charge I’m going to slap on you if you don’t tell me what’s really going on and give me my gun. Now.”
“All right. If that’s what you want.” He reached for his belt and unbuckled it.
“What are you doing?” Her voice rose an octave.
“Giving you what you want.” He unzipped his pants.
Her face turned a rather charming shade of red. “Stop that right now,” she squeaked.
He watched her as he slid his hand into the top of his boxer briefs and slowly pulled out
her pistol. The waistband snapped against his stomach. Emily jerked and hit her head against the wall behind her.
“Here you go.” He held it out toward her. “I didn’t have a holster. That was the only place I could put it. Sorry about that.”
Her breasts rose and fell as her breaths rasped in and out. She reached for the gun, her fingers touching his, sliding across his skin to the butt of the pistol.
“I’ve got it,” she whispered. “You can let go.”
He shuddered. “You’re dangerous.” His voice was thicker and deeper than usual as he ever so carefully adjusted himself and then zipped his pants. As he buckled his belt, she stepped around him, holding the gun down at her side. At least she wasn’t pointing it at him. Yet.
Progress.
“We’re going back to the police station,” she said, her voice quiet.
“We need to talk first.”
A knock sounded and the door opened. “You two, out, now,” Mr. Hutchins said.
“Oh, good grief.” Emily fished her badge from inside her blouse where it hung on a chain around her neck and held it up.
“I’m a cop. This man is a witness to a crime. I need a few more minutes. Get out.”
The man’s brows climbed into his hairline. He jerked back into the hallway and shut the door.
“Huh. That was easy,” she said. “I must have sounded pretty threatening.”
Devlin gestured toward her hand. “Actually, I think it was the gun you were pointing at him.”
“What?” She looked down and blinked, as if surprised to realize she was pointing the gun toward the bathroom door. She groaned and thrust it into the holster at her waist. “That’s like the fourth or fifth time in the past twenty-four hours that I’ve pointed a gun at a civilian. I blame you.”
He grinned.
She narrowed her eyes.
He cleared his throat and forced a sober expression, but it wasn’t easy. The woman was utterly adorable, especially when she was pissed off.
She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and called Tuck, giving him a quick account of what had happened in the alley.
Devlin’s good humor fled. That stunt he’d pulled, kissing her to distract her, had distracted him as well. How many minutes had passed since they’d entered the diner? Cougar and his handler could be anywhere by now, or right outside, waiting for them to emerge.
