Next Exit, Pay Toll

by CW Browning

  “I'm fine,” she answered calmly. Michael nodded slowly.

  “Ok.” He stared at her for a beat, then continued into the hallway. “I'll be right back.”

  Alina nodded and turned her attention back to the porch and the man in the chair. She missed the sharp, speculative glance from hazel-green eyes as Michael went thoughtfully into the kitchen.

  “That tattoo of yours is pretty distinctive. I have a friend who had the same one,” Viper remarked softly, staying where she was.

  The man twisted his head, trying to see her. She was just out of sight, behind him on the side with the eye swollen shut. He gave up trying to see her and faced forward again silently.

  “Now what's a nice American hero like you doing mixed up in a mess like this?” she wondered, her voice as smooth as velvet.

  The figure in the chair flinched and Alina studied him thoughtfully.

  “Do you even know why you were paid to do this?” she asked.

  The man stilled and that was all the answer she needed.

  “Interesting,” she murmured before falling silent.

  Alina was still staring at the back of the man's head thoughtfully when a black SUV came rolling down the street. She glanced up, about to alert Michael to the fact that things were going to get awkward, when the vehicle suddenly picked up speed. Alina saw the back window roll down and the barrel of a rifle emerge. She spun inside the door, with her back against the wall, out of sight.

  “Michael!” she called. “More company!”

  Michael appeared in the entrance to the kitchen just as two cracks echoed outside, followed by the sound of squealing tires as the SUV took off down the street. Alina straightened up quickly and peered around the door jam in time to see the vehicle careen around the corner and disappear.

  Michael ran down the hallway, stopping next to her, and they both looked at the chair. The man was slumped forward, unmoving.

  “What the hell?!” Michael exclaimed, stepping onto the porch.

  Alina followed and they stared at him. Both bullets had entered his chest and blood was starting to spread over his torso. Michael reached out and pressed two fingers on his neck, feeling for a pulse. Alina looked at him and he shook his head.

  “Well, this is awkward,” Alina murmured, glancing at the street.

  Front porch lights were flickering on up and down the street and the neighbors across the road were already outside, looking to see what had happened. Where the sound of breaking glass and Molotov cocktails drew no notice, the unmistakable pop of gunfire got everyone's attention. Michael glanced up and groaned.

  “Time to call the reinforcements,” he muttered, pulling his phone out of his pocket and turning toward the front yard.

  Alina saw the porch light next door go on and the front door open. She backed into the house slowly.

  “Michael, if you don't mind, I'll be inside,” she called. He glanced back at her and she did her best to look upset. “The sight of blood and I have never gotten along in large doses,” she lied convincingly.

  Michael nodded and Alina retreated into the house while he called in the shooting and went out to meet the neighbors. Retrieving her purse from the kitchen, she went into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. She pulled out her phone and hit speed dial quickly. It was picked up on the second ring.

  “Tell me you got a plate number,” she said.

  “I got the plate number,” Hawk assured her. “What was that all about?”

  “I'm not sure.” Alina flipped the toilet lid closed and sank down onto it. “They were here for Michael. The one on the porch was Special Forces.”

  “That did not look like a Special Forces operation,” Hawk murmured in her ear.

  “He was the only one. The others were just hired thugs.” Alina rubbed her forehead and frowned when her hand came away wet. She stood up and looked in the mirror. Blood was oozing from a gash above her eye, next to her temple. “I'm bleeding!” she exclaimed in surprise. “When did that happen?”

  “I assume you're not waiting for an answer from me.” Hawk sounded amused. “Are you ok?”

  Alina turned her head and examined the gash in the mirror briefly, then promptly disregarded it and went back to her seat on the toilet.

  “I'm fine,” she said. “But I'm in one hell of an awkward position here. This place will be crawling with federal agents in about five minutes.”

  “I told you not to go,” Hawk retorted. Alina's eyes narrowed.

  “Not helpful,” she snapped, drawing a chuckle from him.

  “Well, unless you want them to get an inadvertent DNA sample and make everything worse, you better get whatever's bleeding covered up,” he advised. “And do it fast because the first responders are already pulling up.”

  “Great,” Alina said.

  “Viper...”

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful,” Hawk said softly.

  Alina's heart stopped and then thudded painfully as a rush of warmth coursed through her at the tone in his voice. She couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face as she disconnected the call. She swallowed, sighed, and then opened her purse and pulled out the only thing she had to conceal the gash on her forehead.

  Alina stood up and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She set the red Phillies cap on her head and pulled it down to cover the gash, wincing slightly as it settled over the open wound. Tucking the ponytail through the back of the cap, she looked at herself in the mirror again. The wound was covered. Turning on the water, she splashed it on her face, rinsing away smudges of blood before looking at herself again. She was about as presentable as she was going to get.

  “Alina? You ok?” Michael called, tapping on the door.

  “Fine,” she called back.

  She patted her face dry and took a deep breath, turning to open the door. Michael looked at her in concern.

  “You sure?” he asked.

  Alina looked up at him and brown eyes met hazel. She smiled.

  “I'm fine now,” she told him.

  He nodded and his lips twitched as he tweaked the Phillies cap.

  “You know, I have a rule about non-Yankee caps in the house,” he murmured, his lips curving into a teasing grin. “But given the circumstances, I'll waive it this once.”

  “My hair was a disaster,” Alina informed him. “If I'd known this was how you do dinner, I would have worn it up.”

  Michael laughed and pulled her out of the powder room, wrapping his arms around her. He rested his chin on the top of her head.

  “You've been wonderful,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I'm so glad you're alright.”

  Alina hugged him back awkwardly. She could see lights flashing in the front yard and people in official jackets and badges were starting to mill around the body on the porch.

  “You sure know how to show a girl a good time,” Alina told him, pulling away and glancing up into his face. “Too bad I'm still hungry,” she added with a wink.

  “Well, you're the one who threw the lasagna on the fire,” Michael pointed out, steering her toward the kitchen and away from the porch as more people arrived.

  “It seemed like the best option at the time,” she murmured.

  They entered the kitchen and he deposited her in a chair in the corner, behind the round kitchen table in front of the bay window.

  “You stay here,” he told her. “This is going to take a while. I'll make sure they don't bother you too much.”

  Alina nodded and set her purse on the table. She looked up at him when he didn't move immediately. His expression was gentle and it penetrated her shell suddenly, shaking Alina to her core. She stared into his eyes, caught by the intensity there.

  “I'm sorry about dinner,” Michael said softly.

  “No apologies.”

  Her voice was just as soft and Michael smiled slowly.

  “I'll make it up to you,” he promised.

  Alina felt like she was caught in a time capsule. There didn'
t seem to be any movement beyond the two of them.

  “I know,” she answered.

  He grinned suddenly and the intensity in his eyes was replaced with a laugh. The spell shattered and Alina blinked. She was still breathing and Michael was laughing down at her.

  “Sit tight,” he told her, turning away and disappearing around the corner and up the hallway toward the activity on the front porch.

  Alina shook her head slightly and looked around, absurdly dazed. What just happened?

  She looked across the table to the fragmented bay window and watched as a multitude of flashlights started to swarm into the backyard. The Feds had arrived.

  Her mind registered that fact even as it was grappling with that timeless moment between her and Michael. Alina took a deep breath and frowned. It hadn't been physical. It was something else. She got up impatiently and crossed over to the island. The wine bottle and glasses from earlier were broken, the wine spilled over the counter and floor, but the wine rack on the island had escaped damage. Alina went through the cabinets until she found another a wine glass and, pulling a bottle of red wine from the rack, she carried it back over to the table. Sitting down again, she pulled out her all-purpose utility knife and flipped out the corkscrew.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter Eleven

  Alina stepped into the kitchen and kicked the door closed behind her. Dropping her purse and keys on the table, she looked down the short hall to the living room. Damon was stretched out on the couch facing her, bare feet crossed at the ankles, a laptop open on his lap. His hair fell over his forehead carelessly and he was dressed in old sweats and a t-shirt. Alina thought he had never looked so good as he did in that instant. His blue eyes met hers over the top of the screen and he sat up, swinging his legs off the couch. He stood up and came towards her, frowning slightly as he took in her drawn face and the dark shadows under her eyes.

  “You look exhausted,” he said, flipping on the over-head light in the kitchen.

  Alina sighed as she pulled her gun out of the holster at her back, setting it on the table next to her purse.

  “I am,” she told him. “I'm starving, tired, and my head is killing me.”

  “Then it's a good thing I picked up pizza on my way back,” Damon murmured, turning toward the oven. Alina watched as he opened the oven and pulled the box out. He set it on top of the stove and turned off the oven. “I kept it warm for you,” he said, turning around to face her. “I guessed dinner had been ruined.”

  He smiled, his deep blue eyes glinting warmly, and Alina was filled with a sudden wave of warmth. She stared at him, unable to think of a single word to say. His smile grew into a grin and Damon walked over to her, looking down into her face. He touched her lips gently with his fingers.

  “You can thank me later,” he murmured. “Eat. I'm going to have a shower.”

  Alina watched him go down the hall and disappear up the stairs, still standing rooted to the spot in the kitchen, her lips tingling where he had touched them. The smell of pepperoni suddenly snapped her out of her stupor and she shook her head, going over to flip open the box. She lifted out a piece of pizza, biting into it hungrily as she turned to get a plate from the cabinet next to the sink. Carrying it over to the table, she sat down facing the back door with her back against the wall.

  She was exhausted. She hadn't eaten since the morning and between the lack of food and constant rush of adrenaline today, Alina knew that her body was using every last resource it had just to function. She had sat at the table in Michael's kitchen for three hours, sipping wine and watching as federal agents from both the Secret Service and the FBI swarmed around her. True to his word, Michael had ensured that she hadn't been bothered and, to her relief, they seemed to take absolutely no notice of her whatsoever. They approached her only once, and Michael leaned against the wall next to her while they questioned her. He had appeared bored, but the once or twice that she glanced up at him, she got the distinct impression that those hazel-green eyes weren't missing a thing.

  Michael was dangerous and, Viper admitted to herself now as she took another bite of pizza, he was paying entirely too much attention to her.

  Alina finished her pizza and went back to get another slice. The pipes in the wall banged briefly and the sound of water rushing up to the bathroom upstairs told her that Damon had turned on the shower. She smiled slightly to herself. It was kind of comforting to have someone else in the house for a change. She headed back to the table slowly.

  There had been a few times throughout the night when she caught Michael studying her thoughtfully. What he was thinking was anyone's guess, and Alina left uncomfortably aware that Michael saw a lot more than he appeared to see. She frowned, sinking into her seat. The woman in her knew that Michael was attracted to her, and had known it ever since she got out of the taxi and caught him drooling over her legs. That same woman inside her knew that that very attraction, coupled with the investigator in Michael, was garnering much closer scrutiny than she had expected.

  And that was an unforeseen problem.

  The water upstairs shut off and Alina realized with a start that she had been staring into space for several minutes. She sighed and finished her pizza, putting Michael and all the attached difficulties out of her mind. Getting up, she went to put her plate into the dishwasher. Hawk would have already run the plates on the SUV and she would be able to find out who had wanted the ex-Special Forces man dead rather than have him talk.

  Her few moments of rest were over.

  Alina was just closing the dishwasher when Damon came into the kitchen. She turned and her breath caught in her throat. He had put the navy sweats back on, but nothing else. His chest and feet were bare and his hair was still wet from the shower. His flat stomach was as hard as a rock, and his broad shoulders tapered into solidly muscled arms that were still glistening with droplets of water. There wasn't an ounce of fat on the man.

  “Feel better?” he asked, glancing at her as he opened the fridge to pull out a bottle of water.

  “Much,” Alina answered.

  He held up a bottle of water questioningly and handed it to her when she nodded.

  “What's with the Phillies hat?” he asked, closing the fridge and opening his water.

  “It was all I had to cover the blood,” she said, taking a long drink of water.

  Damon's eyes narrowed and he sipped his water.

  “Is it still bleeding?” he asked. Alina shrugged.

  “I have no idea. I haven't touched it since I put the cap on.”

  Damon grimaced and stepped forward. He set his water down on the counter behind her and his broad shoulders stopped her from trying to edge around him. Alina was assaulted with the scent of shower gel, shampoo, and Hawk. Her pulse jumped as her heartbeat quickened.

  “This isn't going to feel good,” Hawk murmured a split second before he swiftly yanked the cap off her head.

  Alina gasped as burning pain shot through her left temple and her left eye filled with tears in reaction. Her ponytail came out with the removal of the hat and red waves tumbled down around her shoulders. Damon tossed the hat on the counter and gently tilted her head sideways so he could look at the gash. Dried blood had caked around the edges and fresh blood was oozing out from the wound where it had been ripped open again.

  “What did this?” he asked.

  “I think it must have been glass, but I'm not sure.”

  Alina's voice was slightly breathless. The pain receded as quickly as it had come and her eye stopped watering. Hawk was standing so close that his thighs were brushing hers and she could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. Alina's heart started pounding in reaction. She didn't trust herself to look at him, so she kept her head turned and tried to concentrate on the throbbing wound on her head.

  “You need to get this cleaned out before it gets infected,” Damon told her, seemingly oblivious to her silent struggles. He gently probed around the edges of the gash. “I thin
k you can get by without stitching it.” He finally looked down at her averted face. “I seem to remember that you're opposed to stitches.”

  Alina swallowed and nodded, finally returning her gaze to his face. Their eyes met and silence fell heavily between them as they stared at each other.

  “I like you better without the green contacts,” Damon finally murmured huskily.

  “Michael knows I have brown eyes,” Alina whispered. “I have to take them out when I see him.”

  Damon nodded slowly, his eyes locked with hers. Alina's mind drained of thought as she stared into his deep blue eyes and her mouth went dry. Her heart was thudding in her chest again painfully and she took a deep breath, trying to calm it. She inhaled the warm and comforting smell of woodsy musk that was uniquely his, and her heart simply thudded faster. Damon groaned softly and lowered his lips to hers.

  She met him halfway.

  Alina slid her hands over his shoulders and felt the smooth skin prickle beneath her fingers. Passion rolled over her, hot and urgent, and she draped her arms around his neck as her eyes slid shut. Damon dropped his hands to her waist and pulled her hard against him as desire took over. Alina heard a moan and dimly realized that it had been her to make the deep, almost haunting, sound of yearning. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe, and couldn't stop touching him. Her feet suddenly left the ground and Alina felt weightless, caught in space for a split second, before she came to rest on the counter. Damon had lifted her up without breaking the kiss and her legs went around his hips on their own. This time the groan didn't come from her, and Damon lifted his head. His eyes were heavy-lidded and filled with desire and Alina felt a shiver streak down her spine as she met his gaze. He was sliding her shirt up and over her head and then his lips were back on hers, hot and demanding.

  As soon as her skin touched his, Damon knew it was going to take a miracle to make this stop. The passion between them was simply too strong for him to resist. For the first time since they had been cautiously testing this attraction between them, Damon knew without a doubt that Alina was holding absolutely nothing back. He groaned again. God, she felt so good.