The Naughty Nine: Where Danger and Passion Collide

by Nina Bruhns

  “Billy’s office is upstairs,” Mallory whispered.

  She led Gage to the back of the club and they took the stairs to the second floor. Wilder’s office door was open. Moonlight filtered in through the slats of a dusty blind. Desk. Filing cabinet. A photo copier. An assortment of potted plants on a stand. They checked the storage room and a restroom, completing their search of this floor. Here as well, nothing appeared out of place and they were alone.

  Mallory lowered her gun. “If Billy was here, he’s gone.” She used the phone on Billy’s desk to call York and update him on the events that had led to her and Gage entering the club, and to advise York that she was on site. York ended the call to coordinate a canvass of the perimeter around the club with local law enforcement.

  Papers lay across the desk. She fingered a couple. One was an invoice from a dry cleaner for table linens. The second was an estimate for a furnace replacement.

  Mallory opened a desk drawer. The odor of cheap mens’ cologne wafted into the air. She recognized it as Wilder’s usual scent.

  Gage winced. “What the hell?”

  “Wilder’s aftershave.”

  Along with the cologne, there was an assortment of business cards strewn in the drawer. Suppliers of liquor, food, and linens. The cards were not arranged either alphabetically or by service. Organized, Wilder was not.

  She opened another drawer and found a fifth of Scotch with half the bottle empty and a crystal tumbler. She was itching to start the search, but anything obtained in an illegal search and seizure would be inadmissible in court. If she went ahead prematurely, Billy and Considine could walk away on a technicality. Disgusted, she closed the drawer.

  Gage went still. “Do you smell that?”

  “All I can smell is Billy’s cologne.” But as she said that, another unmistakable odor overrode the nauseatingly sweet scent and Mallory’s breath caught. “Smoke.”

  Gage was already across the room. He yanked his shirt from his jeans and wrapped the tails around his hand, then seized the door knob and gave it a twist. The hall was filled with smoke. With Mallory in pursuit, he went to the top of the stairs they’d just climbed. Flames were visible at the foot of the steps.

  “Smell that?” Gage pitched his voice to be heard above the roar of the flames.

  “Gasoline. Someone started this.”

  “Yeah. No getting out of here the way we came in.”

  They returned to Billy’s office and went to the window.

  Gage’s hand fisted on the sill. “A sheer drop.”

  “There’s a fire escape on the roof,” Mallory said. “The stairwell is at the end of this hall.”

  Gage went into the small adjoining bathroom and spent a couple of precious minutes soaking two thick cotton towels. He handed one to her. She didn’t need to ask what to do with it and held it over her nose and mouth.

  She fell into step with Gage but in her haste, twisted her weak ankle. Gage reached back for her, preventing her from falling but she struck the plant stand and the brightly painted clay pots toppled and crashed against the tile. A key lay in the dirt. Mallory grabbed it.

  Gage clutched her hand. “Let’s go.”

  Smoke had risen and now filled the corridor. It was difficult to see through the dense fog. Gage moved to the wall with her in tow, leaned a shoulder against it, and using the wall as a guide began to make his way down the hallway. The heat was intense. Perspiration coated her skin. Her hand grew slick in Gage’s.

  Despite the thick towel, smoke penetrated and Mallory began to cough. Gage looked to her in concern and she nodded to reassure him.

  Flames now rose behind them. The railing was engulfed and collapsed. Sparks flew into the air. Gage’s arm swept around her shoulders and he brought her against his chest, shielding her with his body as they continued down the hall. After what seemed like an interminable walk, they reached the door to the stairwell.

  Gage removed the towel from his face and wrapped it around his hand, feeling for a door knob. When he found it he opened the door, holding it for her to precede him.

  With the door closed, the roar of the fire was silenced and the stairwell became as dark as night. They turned on their flashlights and began the ascent to the roof, their steps echoing in the stairwell. After climbing several stairs, Mallory’s step faltered and Gage wrapped an arm around her waist, taking weight off her healing leg.

  When they reached the top, he opened the door. They coughed as they took their first breath of fresh air. The moonlight showed his face, black with soot. His eyes were red and streaming. She must have been in the same condition because he passed the towel gently over her face, then did the same for himself.

  At the fire escape, he slung the towel around his neck. “I’ll climb down first in case your leg gives out.”

  All was quiet as they made their descent. She’d expected to hear sirens from fire trucks responding to the blaze, but as of yet, there were none. It had seemed like so much time had passed since they made their way from Wilder’s office, but only minutes had gone by.

  Through the breaks in the steel stairs, Mallory saw an alley below. As they neared the bottom, the odor of garbage carried on the breeze from an overflowing Dumpster. Two cats hissed and shrieked over some bit of refuse.

  In the alley, Gage lifted her off the stairs and set her on the ground. Gun in hand, he peered at the road beyond, lit by street lamps. “We need to keep our eyes open for whoever started the fire. He may still be lurking, wanting to make sure the job was complete.”

  After a few tense seconds, they left the alley. They were no longer in front of the club. The alley led to a road made up of row housing.

  Gage took her hand once again and steered her out of the glow cast by the streetlights. “I don’t like the coincidence of the club being torched when you were there. We know the fire was deliberate. You may not have been the target, but until we’ve ruled that out, I’m going to presume that you were.”

  A wail of police sirens and a bleat of horns from a fire truck broke the quiet. Someone had reported the fire.

  “You think we were followed here?” Mallory said.

  Gage slowed his pace to match her shorter stride. “Either that or someone knew you were going to be here tonight. From what you’ve told me, Considine’s reach is far. He may have been informed about the search planned tonight and figured a fire would be a good way to get rid of anything incriminating at the club and take you out. I don’t want to go back to your apartment tonight. Considine may have the place staked out. I think we should spend the night somewhere off the grid.”

  “If Considine is watching, he would have made the truck. Better not to go back to it either.” Mallory tugged Gage’s hand. “This way.” She took the first turn they came to, leading Gage onto another street made up of seedy bars and clubs. “There’s a motel about a block over. No one will expect us to go there.”

  Again, they kept to the shadows, though there was no one else on this street. They reached the motel illuminated by a flashing neon sign.

  Gage released her hand. “Wait here while I check us in. No reason the clerk has to see you.”

  He opened the door to the registration office and before he closed it behind himself, Mallory glimpsed a man on a ladder back chair, his chin on his chest, dozing. A television sat on a shelf behind the man, tuned to a black and white movie.

  Gage registered quickly and joined her outside. He was holding a paper bag.

  Mallory pointed to it. “What’s that?”

  “The clerk told me that the motel doesn’t provide any toiletries. I figured we’re going to need some.”

  Mallory glanced at her sooty hands. “Good call.”

  Gage stopped on a cracked asphalt path. “We’re in room thirty one.” He looked around. “That way.”

  The old motel wasn’t equipped with key cards. Gage let them into their room with an old bronze key. Intermittent light from a flashing neon sign in front of the motel provided glimpses of the
interior. Mallory made out a double bed in the center of the room with a nightstand on each side. A television sat on an old metal stand at the foot of the bed.

  Gage went to the window, pulled the curtains closed then thumbed the light switch. The bulb in the ceiling, in a plain white shade, flickered then lit.

  The decor left much to be desired with the color scheme predominantly bright oranges and lime greens. On closer inspection, the furniture looked like it had been purchased during the nineteen seventies.

  Much to Mallory’s surprise, the place was clean and she detected a faint trace of some bleach-based cleaning product.

  Gage picked up the TV remote. “Go ahead and shower first. I want to see if the fire has made the local news yet.”

  Mallory wanted to know that herself and went to stand beside him. He channel surfed for a couple of minutes, then stopped at a scene of a female reporter backlit by a burning building.

  Mallory leaned a little closer to the television. “There it is.”

  “Fire fighters are battling this blaze which broke out at Twenty-Four Stowe Street, a popular bar that features exotic dancing,” the reporter said. “The club is closed for the night and it’s believed the building is unoccupied. At this time, it is not known what started the fire. A full investigation is expected. Now, back to you Nancy at the news desk.”

  Gage flicked to another news station. The same footage was repeated.

  Mallory picked up the phone on the nightstand and called York to let him know she’d made it out of the fire and to find out if he’d had any word about Billy. Gage turned away from the television and focused on her. At York’s “no’, Mallory shook her head at Gage. The conversation with York ended after that.

  She replaced the phone in the cradle. “I’m off to take that shower.”

  Twenty minutes later, she’d made liberal use of the products Gage had purchased. The motel didn’t supply a bathrobe and putting on her filthy clothing that reeked of smoke again was unthinkable. Mallory took one of the white towels and wrapped it around herself, knotting it at her breasts. The towel fell only to mid-thigh. As far as modesty went, it left much to be desired.

  When she joined Gage in the bedroom, she saw just how immodest reflected in his eyes. His deep blues fixed on her and went darker, before he caught himself and looked away.

  In that instant, before he’d banked it, a flame lit in his eyes. Desire, pure and simple. Seeing it sparked a heat inside her as well.

  Her breath caught and it took her an instant to regain control over it so she could speak. “Shower’s yours. You might want to wait a few minutes for more hot water.”

  “Not a problem.”

  He breezed by her and into the bathroom.

  * * *

  In the privacy of the small washroom, Gage rubbed a hand down his face that was not steady. Hot water? Hell, no. The last thing he needed was to get any hotter.

  When Mallory had joined him in the bedroom wearing nothing but that towel he’d all but swallowed his tongue.

  She’d washed her clothes and hung them on the towel bar. Among her jeans and blouse were her bra and panties. Saliva pooled in his mouth. He recalled all too vividly the sexy body that wore those items.

  He turned away from her underthings and to the shower. He twisted the taps then stepped beneath the pulsing water. An image of Mallory in here with him, water sluicing down her naked body came to him, and then him following the path of the flowing water with his mouth. He reached out and gave the tap for the cold water another hard twist.

  He finished showering. He pushed his wet hair back from his face then reached for a towel to wrap around his hips. Among his purchases from the clerk, was a razor. Gage rubbed the stubble on his jaw. To hell with it.

  Back in the bedroom, Mallory was seated on the bed, against the head board. Her hair had dried some and now tendrils of the thick brown strands framed her face softly and curled around her bare shoulders. Seated as she was, her breasts strained against the towel and Gage got rock hard again.

  He looked away from her and to the television in an effort to distract himself. But the dresser was against the wall behind the TV, with its large mirror, and Mallory was reflected in all her splendor in the looking glass.

  “Are you going to stand there all night?”

  Gage turned to her. “What?”

  “Guess we should have asked for a cot, though I’d be surprised if this place had them.”

  “No problem.” Gage cleared his throat. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “The floor is hard and cold. This bed is large enough. No reason we shouldn’t both get a good night’s sleep.”

  Sleep? With her in bed with him? Good luck. He’d already tried that and failed and now that he knew what it was like to have her in his bed, his mind went to work supplying him with memories of her pressed tight to him. He blew out a breath. Oh, yeah, no sleep for him tonight.

  * * *

  The mattress dipped as Gage got into the bed with her. Mallory recalled what that solid body had felt like against her own when they’d shared the mattress at the cabin. A slow burn began in her lower belly and was spreading. Maybe sharing a bed hadn’t been her best idea. But she certainly didn’t want him to have to spend the night on the floor because she couldn’t reign in her hormones. She was just going to have to make the best of it.

  He placed the gun on the nightstand then stretched out on his back giving her a view of his chest and abs. The muscles there were well defined and her gaze lingered. He hadn’t shaved and the stubble on his cheeks and jaw only made him look sexier.

  “Do you mind if I turn out the light?” If she couldn’t see him, she’d be able to put him out of her mind. She hoped.

  “Go ahead.”

  She left the bed and turned off the ceiling light but left the bathroom light on with the door slightly ajar so they could find their way around the unfamiliar surroundings.

  In that couple of minutes out of the bed, she got cold. She shivered and burrowed beneath the blanket. “Good night.”

  “Night.”

  His voice sounded strained. “Are you getting a cold?”

  “No. Good night.”

  She turned on her side and pulled the blanket up to her nose.

  * * *

  The temperature in the room dropped as the night got colder. In her sleep, Mallory had been inching across the bed. When her body touched Gage’s, he broke into a sweat.

  He wanted to shift away from her. The feel of her against him was driving him out of his mind, but she was shivering from the cold. He put his arms around her. As his body heat penetrated she relaxed, grew warm and soft against him.

  Her scent had been teasing him all night. She’d washed with the same soap and shampoo he’d used, but on her the fragrance had become something else altogether. Something that could not be found in a cosmetics bottle. It was her. All her.

  She shifted slightly and her hand slid across his abdomen. He groaned.

  * * *

  Mallory felt deliciously warm. Slowly she became aware that she was pressed tight to a hard, male body. Gage. Her head was on his chest. One of her legs was atop one of his and his arms were banded around her. He was still on his side of the bed. It was she who’d moved.

  She looked up. In the light streaming in from the bathroom, she could see that his gaze was on her. Desire sparked in his eyes. Her heart pounded. With his gaze locked on her, he ran his thumb tenderly across her cheek. A thrill of anticipation surged through her. When he bent his head to hers, she was already moving to him.

  A breath from her lips, he went still. His muscles tensed. He vaulted from the bed, taking her with him. She was about to ask him what had possibly distracted him when she heard it. A scrape in the door lock.

  Gage grabbed her hand and the gun from the nightstand. He led her to the wall behind the door, and took up a position in front of her. He chambered a round in the gun then pulled the door open.

  Early morning ligh
t filled the room and a man fell forward. Tall. Broad in the shoulders but sagging around the middle. He looked like an ex-jock going to fat. Gage hooked him around the neck and jammed the barrel of the gun into his temple.

  The man uttered a small cry. Something dropped out of his hands and fell to the floor. It was a key. The guy lifted his arms, clawing at Gage in an attempt to break Gage’s hold. It was a useless endeavor. Gage tightened his grip and put an end to the useless struggle.

  Mallory stepped out from behind Gage. Her eyes lowered to the key. Gage was also looking at it. He hadn’t missed the fact that it was a key rather than some crude instrument that was being used to get into their room, either. Was the man Gage had subdued one of Considine’s men? Had Considine tracked them to this motel room and bribed or killed the clerk for the key?

  Gage gave the man a shake that knocked his teeth together. “Who are you?”

  “Oliver.” The man cried out. “Joseph Oliver.”

  “Why were you breaking into this room?”

  Oliver squealed. “Not breaking in.”

  Gage’s muscles bunched as he increased his grip on the man’s throat. His voice dropped to a lethal whisper. “If you want to walk out of here, start talking.”

  “It’s the—the truth. I swear it. I mean no harm to you and to your—your lady.” The man was stuttering and tears filled his eyes. “I made a mistake, that’s all. Don’t have my glasses. Wrong ro-om. I swear it!”

  The man was now trembling in Gage’s hold. As far as assassin’s went, this one lacked the constitution for the job, Mallory thought. Was it possible he was telling the truth? Gage’s eyes narrowed and Mallory believed he was wondering the same thing.

  Gage gave the man another shake. “What’s your room number?”

  “Thirty seven. I forgot my glasses when I left my room. I thought this was my room. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  Gage met Mallory’s gaze. “Mind getting the key?”