13
JADE SMOOTHED HER palms over Remy’s back, loving the heat and ripple of muscle beneath her hands. No matter how many times she saw his body, she continued to be fascinated.
The breadth of his chest made her sigh in feminine appreciation. The warmth of his skin made her long to touch him, to run her fingers along every curve and plane, to feel the muscles tighten in longing.
Would she ever grow tired of his touch? Of him touching her?
It didn’t matter. She didn’t have a choice. He’d be gone soon.
Her accountant would handle settling his bill, and Remington Tremaine would move on to smile seductively at someone else. To another blonde. Or at least a woman of equal sophistication who understood his love of art. Who didn’t carry a gun, or stay up all night as part of a surveillance team. Who was normal and giving. Who wanted to share things with him, instead of holding herself apart.
But one who didn’t know him. You know him like no one else.
Part of her actually believed that. She appreciated his sense of adventure and excitement. She sensed when he was giving her a crock of bull. She understood when he was in pain and trying to hide it. She empathized with his frustration and anger at the NSA.
But there were many aspects of him she didn’t get at all—his tendency to see a hard-and-fast rule as merely an obstacle to move around or go over, the way he shrugged off injustice, and his motivations for stealing what he wanted instead of using that clever brain of his to succeed legitimately.
She shook her head. Today was about relaxation and enjoyment. It was a moment out of time she’d probably look back on years from now. A moment when she’d touched someone amazing, when she’d been wanted for something more than just her attitude and marksman skills.
Once she’d reduced his muscles to jelly, just as he had hers, she stretched on top of him—her naked front to his naked back. She laid her arms and hands over his, curling her fingers to join them. She kissed his earlobe, which happened to be the only part she could reach without moving.
“Make love with me?” she asked, comfy and sleepy, but knowing he could rouse her if he chose.
He released her hands briefly and rolled them both to their sides. Now, she could see his face in the flickering candlelight that danced across his strong cheekbones. His eyes were dark and serious. He wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Anytime you want,” he said, his voice husky.
His expression, his words, made her catch her breath. What was happening here? What did this really mean? Why didn’t this feel like a release from the tension of the case or a fun affair all of a sudden?
She swallowed her anxiety. She was imagining things. She was too relaxed, if that was possible.
She kissed his jaw. “Now’s good.” She slid her hand over his shoulder and down his back. “Touch me, Remy. I need you to touch me.”
He cupped her backside and pulled her against him, his erection nudging her hip. As he covered her mouth with his, she flung her leg over his waist, so that her aching center could feel the hard ridge of his cock.
She groaned as a ripple of pleasure rolled up her spine. The material of his pants created both friction and frustration. She wanted him naked against her, but she enjoyed cranking up the hunger. He kissed her deeply, his hand gripping the back of her head to angle her just the way he wanted. His intense need was palpable.
He pushed his hips against hers. She bumped him back.
He trailed his lips across her shoulder. His breath was heaving. “I need to be inside you.”
When he started to unbuckle his belt, she shifted her weight and rolled him to his back. Even as she unbuttoned his pants, he rolled his hips. She followed his rhythm mindlessly, knowing she could end the torture if she just got his clothes off, but there was a lovely kind of dance, a sinuous rhythm to their movements.
When she finally stopped moving long enough to part him from the rest of his clothes, she wasted no time in grabbing one of the condoms he’d laid on the bedside table and rolling it over his erection. She raised herself above him, and he gripped her hips to guide her. She leaned down to kiss him one last time, then plunged, driving him deep inside her body.
She arched her back, stretching to take every last bit of him and pushing her clitoris against the base of his penis. Desire vibrated from her center to her toes, then back up again. Her belly trembled.
Bracing her palms on his stomach and closing her eyes to fully appreciate every sensation, she shifted her hips. He moved with her, his breath coming in short pants, his hands clenching her hips.
Their movements rapidly became shorter and harder. She braced her hands on the mattress to better pump her hips. He bent his knees, changed the angle of penetration and she gasped.
The spiral of need tightened to the point she thought she’d snap in half like a rubber band. She needed that pop. She chased the elusive blast of pleasure, and, mercifully, it finally crashed over her, milking every last impulse and sensation she had, draining her of energy, contracting her heart and leaving her to wonder how she’d ever take another step knowing she was losing him.
Soon. And forever.
JADE NAPPED ON Remy’s chest, listening vaguely to the lap of the water against the shore and feeling the ocean breeze through the windows they’d opened. This slice of heaven might evaporate in moments, but she was soaking it all up in the meantime.
When they finally slid out of bed, he made more clams—this time with fresh herbs, chopped tomatoes and spicy sausage over rice—then they watched a DVD.
“How did you and Mo meet?” he asked as they slouched on the sofa and watched the sun set behind the house in beautiful shades of pink and purple.
“His father was head of security at Beau’s. He took over about the time I went to Tulane. When my parents were killed, he was my lifeline. I don’t know what I would have done without him. He watched Beau’s for me and made sure I had something to come home to.” She slid her fingers over the back of his hand, thinking of all she owed Mo. “He was the only person I told about the NSA—even though I wasn’t supposed to tell anybody.”
“You broke a rule?” he asked, his voice light and teasing.
“I’ve stepped outside the lines once or twice. I simply don’t see the point in doing so just for the sake of rebelling.” She lifted her chin, knowing she sounded stiff, but also knowing they’d never agree on this point. “My parents raised me to be a productive member of society.”
“I was raised by nuns. A strong moral base isn’t always a guarantee of following the straight and narrow.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“I was always drawn to excitement and risk.”
“I hear the police academy is always looking for candidates.”
“Too traditional. I’m a rebel.” He gripped her hand. “Do you think I’m proud of my thievery?”
“You certainly don’t apologize for it.”
“No, because sometimes it was justified, and in many ways it helped me become a better person.”
She turned over to face him. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m not kidding. But that doesn’t mean I don’t regret many of my actions. I’ve grown into a different person than the boy who snuck out of the orphanage for kicks. Between then and now, I’ve had too many scary moments. I’ve seen too much of the dark side of life.” He lifted her chin so she met his gaze. “Contrary to rumor, I have a conscience.”
“I never said—”
He laid his finger over her lips. “Sister Mary Katherine always assured me I had conscience in abundance. Eventually, it wouldn’t let me escape the simple fact that what I was doing was wrong. It wasn’t challenging, or amusing or satisfying. It was wrong.”
Her throat tightened. She’d never realized he felt this way. She’d assumed his friend’s death, followed by his going to the police, had forced him to give up his illegal activities.
Seeming to read her thoughts, he smoothed back he
r hair. “Maybe we’re not as far apart as you think.”
How did that change what was between them? She was tempted to pass off the moment as nothing more than temporary lover chitchat, where the closeness is forced and artificial. But that was only because she was afraid if she examined her feelings for him, she might find a great deal more than she was willing to give in to.
“But my feelings about my past are in conflict now,” he continued. “On this side of the law, do I have a right to judge Peter Garner so harshly?”
“Yes.” Hell, surely he wasn’t comparing himself to Garner. “You’re not him. He’s cruel and heartless. He’s responsible for the death of one man we know about and no telling how many others. He has no loyalty or compassion.” She lay her hands against his chest. “You have a heart. A generous heart. You’re protective of your friends. You’re strong without making others look weak. I—” she looked away, then back “—I admire you for what you’ve done with your life.”
He pulled her close, kissing her neck. “You have no idea how much I’ve needed to hear that.”
“Not that I agree with all your choices.”
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”
She pulled back slightly. “Are we going to be friends after all this?”
“I hope so.”
“You know, I thought you were an arrogant manipulator when I first met you.”
“I thought you were a control freak.”
“I am,” she said.
“You’re tough. But amazing.”
“You’re difficult. But brilliant.”
He leaned close to her lips. “Let’s admire each other in bed.”
Jade briefly gave herself over to his touch and kiss, but before she let him lead her to the bedroom, she checked in with her team. Frank was having dinner with a former colleague. Mo had gone to the movies earlier and was Internet-surfing again. David seemed to be in a loud nightclub, possibly one where women took off their clothes for money.
At least they were separated and doing what they wanted for a change.
Jade focused on Remy. She reveled in his touch and his smile, in the pleasure he gave her, in the way he sighed against her body. She didn’t even consider tomorrow and the focus she’d have to regain. She refused to let her mind wander to the future, when the case was over and he would be gone.
They talked little as they flew back the next morning. Holding hands communicated their silent regret at having to return.
“I want to continue to see you after the case is over,” he said in the limo on the way back to the hotel.
Startled, she looked over at him. “You live here, I live in New Orleans.”
“I have a plane, remember? Besides, I’m leaving the NSA, so my schedule will be much more flexible.”
Obviously the break had dulled her senses. “Leaving the NSA?”
“I’ve had enough. When you’ve lost all trust and respect for your boss, it’s time to give notice.”
“I guess so.”
She threaded her fingers through her hair. Did she want to see him? Should she see him? Her emotions were jumbled and incoherent. She enjoyed him, but could they really have a relationship?
How long could they really expect to make it?
Now wasn’t the time to be talking about this. She had to put her personal feelings aside, lock them in a box. She had to find the kick-ass bodyguard. Fast. “You seem to be making some rash decisions this morning,” she said, not knowing what else to say.
“I’ve been thinking about them for a while.”
“A week.” She rolled the tension from her shoulders. “Let’s get through tonight. We need to concentrate on that.”
“Don’t push me aside, Jade,” he said, his tone edgy.
“I’m not. I just—” Leaning forward, she rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers. “I don’t know what I want—except to get that son of a bitch Garner. I didn’t plan on you, on feeling…close to you. Me, who plans everything. I didn’t anticipate that very big potential problem.”
“I didn’t, either.” He sighed. “I’m sorry for unloading this on you now. It’ll keep.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her against his chest. “Do your job. I’ll do mine.” Kissing her, he murmured against her lips, “We’ll meet in the middle.”
She curled her hand around his neck, knowing their privacy was ending, praying she could be strong enough, quick enough, smart enough to pull them out of this one. The world without Remy—or any man on her team—wasn’t a place she was willing to be. “You’ve got a deal.”
They kept their hands clasped until the elevator doors opened on the eighteenth floor, where they broke apart. Jade checked the clip on her pistol. Remy smoothed the cuffs on his shirt. Then they walked, side-by-side, back into the fray.
“HEY, BOSS, REMY,” Mo said as they walked through the suite’s doorway.
Remy noted Mo’s always-serious expression was brighter. David also greeted them with renewed enthusiasm. Frank was taking a phone call in the other room and waved through the connecting door.
Even though he’d taken her away for mostly selfish reasons, Remy was pleased to see the team had responded well to the break. Tonight was about much more than his life. Frank, Mo, David and Jade were all risking their lives for him. Yes, that was their job, but it didn’t make their commitment and potential sacrifice any less moving.
“I got the digital pictures from the museum,” Mo said. “A bunch of pieces aren’t on the list of what Garner and Nagel supposedly stole. There are donations from other collectors—the works being shown feature San Francisco artists, which was probably why his pieces were included.”
“Let’s see them,” Jade said, heading toward the laptop on the dining room table.
Remy followed, though he didn’t know what he expected to find. How would he recognize a significant piece? He owned a few works by San Francisco artists. Was this about one of them?
He leaned over Mo’s shoulder and watched him click through the pictures they’d already seen. Thirty-five years had passed. Even if they could prove Garner was involved in the robbery, the statute of limitations had long run out. No one—including him—had definitively connected him to Nagel’s murder until now. What evidence could they possibly pull together now?
He watched the pictures of paintings, then a series of sculptures flash on the screen.
“Wait,” he said, leaning closer to stare at a bronze sculpture. He could feel the blood drain from his face. “That’s my mother.”
Jade gripped the back of Mo’s chair. “What?”
“That sculpture—the face, the hair. She looks like my mother.”
“What does this mean?” Jade asked, her eyes wide. “Did your mother know Garner?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe. If Nagel is my father, then it’s even more likely they’d met at some point.”
“Where did it come from, Mo? Garner’s collection?”
Mo enlarged the section at the bottom, where the caption was printed. “State of California.”
“Probably a repossession from an estate,” Remy said, curling his fist around the ring in his pocket. “The owner died without a will or living relatives.”
“How did it wind up in a show with Garner’s stuff?” David asked, though of course no one knew.
Jade paced away, then back. “This is wild. Are you sure?”
“It’s a bronze, as in Remington bronze, and it looks just like my mother.” Remy’s heart was pounding. The resemblance was astounding. He only had a couple of pictures of his mother—the ones she’d left with the nuns when she’d dropped him off at the orphanage. Long, silky-looking dark hair, dark eyes, short, upturned nose. The features were the same on the bronze.
Had she been a model?
Had his father seen the statue somewhere and noticed the similarity to the mother of his child? Had he stolen it for himself, rather than Garner, as Remy had always suspected? Was it possible his mother actually p
osed for the sculpture, or was the resemblance just a coincidence?
He knew one thing for sure—he had to have that statue. Remy would bet everything he had that the key in his pocket fit somewhere in it.
“Forget the gallery showing,” he said. “We have to get that sculpture.”
“We will,” Jade said. “Is there any way to change the angle on that picture, Mo?”
“No. There are just the brochure shots.”
“We need to call Detective Parker and get him to confiscate the piece.”
“No.” Remy shook his head. “Absolutely not. We’re not bringing in the cops. I can get it without them.”
Jade crossed her arms over her chest. “Can you?”
He met her gaze and refused to flinch at the judgment in her eyes. “Yes, I can. With or without your help.”
Mo and David grew still, obviously sensing the tension.
Frank walked into the room. “So, what’s—”
Remy was aware of his stare, but he didn’t look away from Jade. As Mo explained the new development, Remy cursed silently. He should have known she wouldn’t understand. She was too stringent, too inflexible. He’d hoped, after yesterday—
He broke off the thought. Maybe, if he hadn’t been presented with this temptation, they could have found a compromise, but now he knew that wasn’t possible.
He had to have that sculpture, and he was getting it the only way he knew how. Anxious energy flowed through him. “You guys go to the showing and distract Garner. I’ll get the sculpture.”
“Get? You mean steal.” Jade grabbed his arm. “No, the police can—”
“No police,” he said, glaring at her. He’d involved the police once. He wouldn’t go to them for help again. Not even for Jade.
“J.B.,” Frank said quietly as he approached them. “I’ve got to agree with Remy. Let’s not get Parker involved.” He stepped closer when she shook her head. “The police will haul Garner in for questioning, he won’t give them anything, then they’ll take the sculpture and stuff it in some evidence room, and we’ll never know what’s going on. Let’s handle it ourselves, not tip our hand to Garner, then the cops can take the credit for the bust.”
A Breath Away Page 17
