by Debra Webb
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
He reached over and turned off the floor lamp, throwing the room into darkness. A moment later, a thrill danced up her spine when his strong hands gripped her hips, pulled her flush against his muscled body. “Becca,” he whispered against her lips.
She nipped his lower lip, clinging to his shoulders for balance as his kiss set her head spinning. She reveled in the heat, the velvet stroke of his tongue against hers. Under her hands she felt his breath stutter in and out. Good. She ran her hands over the hard planes of his chest and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Nothing would stop them this time.
As if he could see in the dark, his gripped her hips and boosted her up. She locked her legs around his trim waist as he carried her unerringly to the bed.
This. Yes. More. The world dwindled down to the two of them. Nothing else existed, nothing was needed, beyond the delight and indulgence right here.
His fingers sank deep into her hair and he pulled just enough to bring her head back so he could feast on her throat. She shoved at his shirt and hers until at last they were skin to skin. His mouth traced her collarbone, then drifted lower, pressing kisses over her heart while he thumbed her nipples.
She cried out when his mouth closed over one taut peak and suckled hard. He broke contact and she whimpered until she heard the sound of his zipper lowering. She scrambled to get out of her leggings and panties and heard a thud as something hit the floor.
“What was that?” she said.
“Not important.”
He was right. She reached for him, explored him in the darkness as he worshipped her with his mouth and hands, every wicked touch bringing her closer to the peak. She tasted the salt on his skin, inhaled the scent that was him alone, found the places that made him shudder.
She was begging, her body eager, when he spread her thighs and filled her. She nearly came at that first touch. He changed the angle, and pure pleasure flamed through her. Gripping his hips, she matched the rhythm as relentless and timeless as the ocean until she had to let go and surrender to the shattering climax.
Her body shivering around his, she could only hang on as he brought her to another peak before giving in to his own release.
They drifted there, in that starry bliss, with soft kisses and softer words.
When he drew her to his side and pulled up the comforter over their cooling bodies, she remembered the thud and the laptop he’d put on the bed. “I hope the computer’s okay,” she said with a giggle.
“Sam has more.” His hand danced down her rib cage, tickling her.
On a glorious burst of laughter, she let him roll her over and start thrilling her again.
Chapter Twelve
Sunday, October 17
Parker woke to a spill of sunlight through the curtains, surprised to find he’d slept soundly for the first time in recent memory. As he felt the warm, seductive curves of Becca snug beside him, the reason for this bone-deep happiness filtered through him and left him smiling.
Everything about her tempted him, enticed him. She was brave, bright and sexy as hell. And for some reason he wasn’t ready to label, he got a hollow feeling in his gut when he imagined going back to his life without her in his face, challenging him on every detail.
Before reality could intrude, they made good use of the oversize shower and the breakfast he’d ordered last night while she dozed.
As they drove back to San Francisco, they talked more about Theo and the others, as well as her career path at the network. Not knowing what the evening would hold, or if she’d even want to stick around once the rush of their ordeal was over, he didn’t want to jinx these priceless moments.
Sam had called before they set out, to let them know Samir was still locked on to the hotel where he thought Parker and Becca had spent the night, so they drove straight to Sam’s building and a meeting with Detective Baird and Special Agent Spalding, an FBI connection of Madison’s.
They reviewed every detail. “The only person who isn’t a stand-in is Theo’s brother David,” Special Agent Spalding reported. “We couldn’t convince him to stay out of it.”
Parker glanced at Becca and caught her smirk. “I can sympathize,” he said. “As long as he knows how to get out of the room, that’s all we can do.”
Just as Becca had assured him, the plan was in place and working. It was simply a matter of waiting for the right time to move in.
The countdown was running in the back of his mind as they gave their statements to the police and FBI and connected the dots on Samir, his revenge mission and the other man whom they believed to be a cousin of Fadi.
Finally, it was go-time and he could stop thinking about the what-if and what-next questions. He had a target and he meant to hit it.
When they walked into the small chapel at the funeral home, Parker’s brain kept flip-flopping about Becca at his side. He wanted her safely away from this potential nightmare, and yet if she were out of his sight, he knew he’d be distracted with worry. Samir had gone after her before. There was nothing to say he wouldn’t try again.
She looked stunning in a quiet black dress with pearl earrings and a long strand of pearls that draped to her waist. He wanted to run his hands through her gorgeous auburn hair, remembering the feel of the silky waves against his skin.
“All clear, survey one.” The voice in his ear brought him back to reality with a jolt. Surveillance one was stationed on the street out front. He and Becca, David and the crew posing as Theo’s mourners were all in place. In the still, somber mood in the room, aware he’d have to do this for real if he survived, Parker found it hard to breathe. Without the distraction of the trap, he’d bolt for his cabin in Big Sur and work through this as God intended: alone with his thoughts and a bottle of whiskey.
Make a move, Samir, he thought. Let’s end this.
“Relax,” Becca said, slipping her hand over his arm. “It will be over soon.”
“I want my target,” he murmured for her ears alone.
“I understand.” She leaned in just a bit. “The service will begin shortly.”
He hadn’t wanted to take the charade that far, but David insisted he could handle it, especially if it meant catching Theo’s killer.
“You’ve set a good stage here,” Parker said, trying to steel himself against the emotion threatening to swamp him.
“Thank you.” She rubbed her hand up and down his arm.
He relaxed a fraction under the soothing touch. “The flowers are a nice touch.”
Plants and floral arrangements had been placed about the room, all of them props that hid weapons. “Why doesn’t the bastard make his move?” he asked after another round of check-ins sounded in his ear.
“You’re antsy. It’s understandable. Let’s get started. Just to keep up appearances.”
Parker nodded at David, who stepped to the podium near the closed casket. As David played his part, Parker calculated angles and choke points. They were dealing with two men, a leader and an accomplice or more likely an apprentice. Unless Samir hired more to tip the odds in his favor. Though it was possible, Parker believed the home field advantage, and a room filled with experts would be an effective balance. Make your move.
He had to give the entire setup praise for authenticity. The three men playing the parts of Franklin, Matt and Ray looked remarkably similar to his friends and comrades in Iraq. It was the equivalent of a dress rehearsal, and the finality of it all seeped into Parker, turning him numb from the inside out. Without Becca, warm and real beside him, he might have disappeared.
As those present shared memories of Theo in his various roles, Parker’s mind carried him far from the quiet room and back into the heated combat zones they’d survived. He felt a nudge and glanced over to find Becca eyeing him with expectation as she tilted
her head toward the podium. There too he was met with the expectant expression of Theo’s older brother, his eyes puffy and red. The man was the bravest of them all today.
Parker walked to the front and turned to the small gathering. He had to play the part as well as the rest of them. He thought of the people he’d served with through the best and worst of military conditions. They all knew death was part of living and risk part of military service, but he found himself speaking to Becca.
He shared what Theo had meant to him. Not in recent years or as part of Samir’s revenge, but as a unique and strong-minded personality, as a competent and willing leader. He wasn’t sure how long he spoke, only that he continued when his voice wanted to crack because Becca’s gaze held his, giving him courage.
He returned to his seat and let her warm his chilled hand with hers until the service ended.
“No attack.” He didn’t bother to hide his disappointment from Becca. “So much for being an irresistible target.”
She slipped her arm around his waist as the others moved out to secure the room until they could clear the weapons. “I find you irresistible,” she said.
Her quirky humor made the failed plan easier to bear. Becca’s resiliency had captivated him from the moment she tried to shove his boot out of her door. Had it only been a few days? Another round of checks in his ear claimed no sign or sighting of Samir or his accomplice.
“I was sure this would draw them out.” He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar as they walked toward the hotel where David and the others were staying, according to Sam’s maneuvers. He wasn’t afraid of being on the street with her, knowing the SFPD and the FBI had spotters all over.
“Did we scare him off?”
“Possibly. None of this is making sense.” Parker sighed. “I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s made a study of being unpredictable since he put this in motion.”
Suddenly there was shouting and chatter on the comms from the surveillance teams. A fire alarm went off at the hotel. Parker and Becca exchanged a glance and broke into a run up the block.
Keeping her safe was essential, and he looked around for someone he trusted to hand her off to while he went after Samir. Everyone was converging on the hotel, and when they joined the fray, they found the lobby teeming with every brand of law enforcement, including Detective Baird, who walked over immediately.
“Did you see him?”
“No.” Parker’s stomach clutched. “What happened?”
“We’ve got the accomplice upstairs,” Baird said. “Attacked the agent playing Franklin.”
“And Samir?” Parker demanded.
The detective swiveled toward the front doors. “He should have passed right by you.”
“I’ll find him.” He’d studied the area, chosen this place because of the escape options for Samir. He gripped Becca’s shoulders, firmly. “Stay with the detective.” Kissing her forehead, he bolted for the door before she could argue.
* * *
BECCA WATCHED HIM GO, wishing she’d found a way to keep him out of town and away from trouble. Last night had been the best of her life. She didn’t want to contemplate that it would be the only night with the man she loved.
Loved.
She turned the word around in her mind, still not sure how or when she’d started to fall for him. During her initial background search? Looking into his eyes for the first time at her door? Maybe in the dark of the safe room, when she’d all but known Parker was holding her. Any and all of those moments had solidified into an emotional certainty. She’d fallen with no chance of recovery when they were in the darkness of his grief, and he’d finally been brave enough to open up. To her.
She ran her fingers up and down the strand of pearls. She loved the man and he’d gone charging out after a vengeful assassin. “Who has his back?” she asked the detective.
“I’m not sure. We have spotters and cameras all over the area.”
“Right. And who has eyes on Parker?”
She’d told him that he didn’t have to finish this alone, that he had backup. She would damn well be sure it was true. She followed the detective to what appeared to be a staging area of sorts in the hotel security office. Sam was there, furiously working on camera angles.
She wedged her way closer to Parker’s friend. “Do you see him?”
He shook his head.
She stifled the frustrated scream, watching the various images for any glimpse of Samir or Parker.
“There.” She pointed and Sam did something to magnify the view. She’d seen little more than a shadow moving through the construction zone across the street, but she knew Parker’s build and the way he moved.
“Are you sure?” Sam asked.
She was. As far more qualified people around her debated and assessed, Becca slipped out to do whatever she could to save the man she loved.
Rushing across the street, she ducked through the fence surrounding the scaffolding. Hearing the sounds of a fight several stories up, she cringed and started up the stairs. She didn’t focus on her lack of weapons or skills. She trusted her ability to create a distraction that would give Parker an opening.
When she reached the floor, she hit the lights and tucked herself low, hoping she wouldn’t be seen yet as she peered through an opening. The men broke apart for a moment, both of them raising an arm to shield their eyes. Parker was on one knee, breathing heavily. Samir breathed hard as well as he rolled to his feet.
“Who’s there?”
Now that she saw the scarred face, she recoiled. If not for Parker, she might still be Samir’s captive. Or worse. Though fear left her trembling, she would not back down or leave Parker to handle this alone.
“Your accomplice is in custody,” she shouted. “Give up now.”
“Get out of here, Becca!”
“Help is coming,” she called out. They had to be closing in.
Samir turned to run, but Parker lunged after him and tackled him, driving him farther from her. They were exchanging punches and kicks and getting dangerously close to the edge of the construction where only plastic sheeting guarded the long drop-off.
He couldn’t believe jumping was an option, could he?
“I brought your money,” she shouted at Samir’s back. “Take it and escape. Go home while you can still leave the country.”
Samir pulled a knife on Parker and drove for his midsection. Parker feinted, his jacket getting sliced in the process. As he dropped and rolled away from another swing of that wicked knife, the loose fabric caught on a piece of equipment.
Samir went for a killing strike and missed. He cursed at Parker and raced for the stairs. “We are not finished.”
“That’s what you think.” Parker leaped up and attacked again, heedless of the knife.
Becca covered her mouth as she watched the fight. The heavy blows and near misses were more than she could bear. Where was their backup?
“Let him go!” she cried, giving the performance of her life. Hearing a helicopter rotor overhead, Becca shouted at him again, “Take the money and go!”
When Samir hurried toward the stairs, she moved to block his escape. The man skidded to a stop, glancing over his shoulder as Parker closed in from behind.
“It is over,” she said. If she could keep his attention, Parker would have room to seize the advantage. “You can’t escape.”
The assassin faced her, his mouth twisting into an ugly sneer. “I came to kill my enemies, not die on foreign soil.”
“Plans change,” she said, holding his attention.
“There is no honor among thieves, only power and respect,” Samir said in his heavy accent. “To bring the head of the enemy to my people will restore my rightful place as leader.”
She wanted to vehemently deny the idea of Parker fatally wound
ed here, in this skeletal construction zone. “There is no honor in murder, you freak.”
Samir advanced. “I am justified. He is the killer!”
“You’re a tyrant.” She scooted back another few steps, buying more space for Parker.
“My cause is justified,” he roared, pumping the knife into the air.
Under his raised arms, she saw Parker pick up a length of scrap metal. She held her ground. “Petty vengeance is not a cause.”
He reached out, grabbing her by the strand of pearls. She leaned back, putting all her weight away from him. The necklace broke and she tumbled backward into the stairwell, hearing Parker’s voice as the world faded to darkness.
Chapter Thirteen
One week later
Parker kept peeking at Becca, watching her carefully for any lingering sign of pain or distress during the drive to his cabin in Big Sur. He wanted to impress her, and despite the doctor’s assurances, he wanted to be sure she was healthy enough to be impressed. Now that the danger was over, what he had to say could wait a little longer, if necessary.
Of course it had been too much to expect her to stay with the detective when he’d chased down Samir. He’d been by her side from the moment the ambulance had transported her from the construction site, only leaving her long enough to shower and change into clean clothes once a day. She’d been unconscious for thirty-six hours, the worst hours of his life. It had taken several attempts before his friends convinced him it wasn’t all his fault she’d ended up in the hospital.
When she’d finally woken, sore and disoriented, her first word had been his name. It had done more to heal him than all the legal fallout and justice combined. As she recovered, Lucy and Rush and Sam and Madison had all stopped by to keep them company and commend her for her bravery.
Eventually he’d explained Samir had committed suicide by law enforcement, refusing to surrender when he was surrounded, and by charging the officers he’d sealed his fate. With the cooperation of the accomplice, the FBI and other authorities were piecing together all the clues to the Iranian’s crimes—from the original email and blackmail note to the assaults and murders.
