Under the Gun

by Lyn Stone

  “Errand boy? That’s bull. I’m in this up to my neck, little mama.”

  Will spoke up from the back seat. “Do you feel we’ve adopted the wrong child, Holly?”

  “Yeah. Let’s send him out for a loaf of bread and move before he gets back.” She’d do it, too. They could ditch him and he knew it. Holly knew that was the only reason he had agreed for them to go to Atlanta.

  “All right, all right,” Eric grumbled. “I’ll be your flunky. Let me know when I can fetch something for you.”

  “Odin’s pal would be a good start.”

  “Yeah, I hope that works out, but you know he won’t go down easy. Wouldn’t you choose a blaze of glory rather than face a terrorist charge? I’ll probably have to kill him.”

  “Take him alive if you can,” Will advised.

  “When you get to Atlanta, find a doctor for Will,” Holly said. “Can you handle that?”

  “Can do. I’ll even throw in a pretty nurse.”

  Holly frowned at that, then quickly switched her jealous mind to business matters.

  Eric laughed at her, so she knew she hadn’t been quite quick enough to keep her thoughts to herself. She glanced back at Will, who was wearing a bland look of innocence.

  Holly and Will kept Eric’s Jeep while he scrounged another vehicle to go back to the river to wait for Odin’s sidekick.

  They had agreed it would be unwise to fly commercial, since Will had no identification. Requesting his ID would alert Jack. Also, putting their names on a computerized passenger list might alert someone a whole lot more dangerous to them than an irate boss.

  They considered, then discarded the idea of hiring a private plane or a chopper. That expense would have to be approved through channels. It would be, immediately. However, the fewer people who knew their whereabouts and mode of transportation, the better.

  After leaving Eric with his new wheels, Holly headed for the nearest hotel, a modest chain near the interstate. “First order of business is to get us dry,” she told Will. “Then you need to sleep in a real bed.”

  “We can make Atlanta in six or seven hours,” he argued.

  “It’s better if we wait. Let’s stick around and see how things work out with Eric’s little venture in the morning.”

  Will looked doubtful.

  She continued. “We might even get an ID on Odin out of that. The bastard sure would be a lot easier to find if we had a name. Then Eric needs to get to Atlanta and find us a place to stay.”

  “I just want to get on with this,” Will muttered. “The bomb’s ticking, Holly. Who knows what they’re planning for Thanksgiving?”

  She shook her head, a little exasperated. “We don’t know for sure they’re planning anything. Maybe he just agreed to deliver them by that time.”

  “You know better, Holly. There are God knows how many of those missiles floating around in the Middle East. Here, they’re harder to come by, but they’re still too plentiful in anybody’s book. Where’s the profit in stealing a small cache like this to sell? The whole lot would have brought peanuts if split that many ways. That was too much risk for too little gain. No, I think there are plans to use them.”

  He was right. “Whatever they plan, Thanksgiving’s less than a week away and you can bet every agency will be on this by now. We can afford to slow down and regroup a little here. You should be rested when we get to the area. If you’re goofy from exhaustion, how are you gonna hone in on Odin?”

  Will shrugged, but she could see it cost him to go along with her delay.

  She understood his impatience, his need to see justice done for his brother and, even more crucial, to prevent what might very well be a national catastrophe.

  The thought of those Stingers aimed at planes full of holiday travelers made her sick. But everything she had told Will was true. He couldn’t operate in any capacity if he was zombielike with fatigue.

  She parked at the motel office and registered them for a double with two beds.

  Once they were inside the room, she pushed Will into the bathroom and ordered him to strip and shower.

  “Stop treating me like a child, Holly,” he warned. “I have just about had it with that!”

  She supposed she had been a little overbearing. Usually he put up with her bossiness, even seemed amused by it, but right now he looked as if he had reached his limit. “Okay, but I have to wait on you to get through in here. Unless you want company in this shower, get on with it.”

  Just saying that sent a ripple of heat through her and shot her imagination into overdrive.

  He must be experiencing a similar feeling, she realized when he turned toward her. He grabbed the tail of his sweatshirt and stripped it off over his head, then reached for the waistband of his pants, as if anticipating just what she had suggested.

  Holly forced her gaze away from his bare chest, quickly turned on the water, adjusted the tap and scooted past him out of the room. One thing she absolutely did not need was to see Will naked again.

  She pulled off her own damp clothes, reveling in the warmth of the room as she switched on the television to kill time while she waited. Anything to distract her thoughts from Will. She curled up on the bed, staring at the television without really seeing it.

  Will Griffin was a damn fine looking man, that was all. Any woman would get a little steamed up at the sight of him. Added to that was the very compelling urge to temporarily shift her focus and his away from the problem with Odin and the Stingers, and concentrate on something life-affirming instead of something potentially deadly.

  Natural responses aside, however, her attraction to him seemed harder to control. It was almost as if she’d had it bottled and stoppered inside her since the day they’d met, and now it had broken free. She didn’t quite know how to get it contained again.

  If only he could see and do everything for himself, they could have taken separate rooms. Too late now.

  Will exited the bathroom wearing only a towel. He rubbed his hair briskly with another one. “All yours,” he said, squinting at the circle of light he knew must be the lamp between the beds. Her shadow moved toward him, then to one side, and disappeared.

  “Careful how you throw that offer around. A girl could misunderstand.” Her laugh sounded a little strained, the teasing forced. “Go to bed, Will.” Her voice came from behind him. “Be asleep when I come out of here.” The door shut with a firm click.

  He wanted to shake her. She was probably the bossiest woman alive. Getting bent out of shape about that served no purpose. It had never bothered him before. He and the other guys just took it for granted, enjoyed it, often joked about it.

  Holly worried about them. No woman had ever cared enough to order him to do what was good for him. Certainly not his mother. Even his teachers had let him do pretty much as he pleased. He guessed his being dependent on Holly for the simplest things right now made him too sensitive.

  Even knowing that, he couldn’t stifle his need to assert himself and throw off the role of patient. That felt ungrateful. She’d probably see it as petty. Hell, even he saw it that way.

  He ran a hand through his hair, backed up to the bed and sat down. If he had any sense left, he would do exactly as she’d said—crawl between the covers and go to sleep. Avoid temptation.

  If she came out of that bathroom and approached him, he was more than liable to do something really unproductive, like kiss her again.

  His motive for doing that would be suspect to say the least, even to himself. Comfort, control or desire? Even he couldn’t pinpoint why he wanted to do it.

  He knew what the immediate goal was, of course, but why, exactly, would he even think about jeopardizing their solid-gold working relationship? She joked around with all the guys and they joked back. Not one member of the team, least of all Holly, took the banter seriously.

  The door opening alerted him that he had sat there thinking for entirely too long. Nothing for it now but to have it out in the open.

  “Holly,”
he said firmly. “We need to talk.”

  “Oh, shoot. Last time some guy said that to me, he was about to dump me and take my dog.”

  Will patted the bed. “Sit down and stop fooling around.”

  “Now that’s wishful thinking, my man. You want me to fool around, it will cost you a fully loaded pizza and a beer. I’m no cheap date.”

  “Cut it out, Holly!” he snapped, his patience gone.

  She sighed loud and long. He felt the bed bounce as she plopped down heavily, out of his reach. Not that he had any intention of reaching for her.

  He cleared his throat. “We need to get something straight.”

  “No sex,” she said, sounding woebegone. She moved closer, between him and the light.

  “Holly…”

  “I know, I know, you can hardly restrain yourself. But you know Vinland would whip your ass if you—”

  Will gauged where her arm would be and grasped it. She yelped a little, surprised, when he pulled her close and kissed her.

  He only meant to shut her up, but her mouth welcomed his, warm, wet, delicious. He deepened the kiss, his mind drugged with the sheer power of what she made him feel.

  Chapter 7

  She should pull away now, Will thought dimly. He couldn’t. Instead, she writhed closer, pressing against him.

  Next thing he knew, they were lying down, a tangle of bare skin and damp towels. Damn little of the towels.

  Her hands clutched his back, her long nails delicately scoring, sending frissons of pure lust rocketing from surface to core. He slid his own hands between their bodies, cradling her breasts, swallowing her murmur of encouragement.

  Her legs moved around his hips in blatant invitation. Will had fitted himself to her, ready to make it real, when a sudden jolt of reason stopped him.

  “Can’t,” he gasped against her seeking mouth. “We…can’t do this.”

  “No,” she moaned—whether in agreement or protest, he couldn’t tell.

  Even so, he forced himself to lift off of her and roll to his back. He slung an arm over his eyes and groaned.

  For several minutes, they lay there side by side, touching shoulder to knee, all but hyperventilating.

  When he had himself halfway under control, he risked an explanation. “No protection.” His voice sounded strangled, strange to his ears. “Besides…”

  “Yeah, I know. Thanks,” she rasped. He heard her take a deep breath and expel it slowly.

  “You’re not welcome,” he said, rolling his head from side to side. “Not at all.”

  “Let’s not do this again, okay?” she whispered in a small voice.

  Will nodded, unable to promise out loud. He stared at the light, trying to fix his attention anywhere rather than on her. Never in his life had he wanted anything so badly as he wanted Holly. But he would not risk a pregnancy when she was so devoted to her career. He was surprised that she would. Maybe she was on the pill. “Are you…taking anything?”

  “No,” she said, a woeful sound if he’d ever heard one. That made him feel a little better, that she was as disappointed as he was.

  Again they fell silent until the program on the television changed. A lone, wailing saxophone cut through the stillness of the night, the music promising something sensual and suggestive. Holly cursed under her breath, wriggled off the bed and turned off the set.

  She didn’t return to his bed. Instead, he heard the rustle of covers on the other one. A few seconds later, the light snapped off and there was only darkness. Solitude. Regret.

  They didn’t even risk saying good-night. Talking their way around this was not going to work, anyway. The only thing left to do was try to ignore it.

  Holly slept until 9 a.m. when Eric’s phone call woke her up. He’d had no success. Morning had dawned cold and dreary. She donned her clothes, which she had spread out to dry before her shower. She tossed Will’s on the chair beside the bed when she returned to the room.

  He still slept. She could hardly see him in the meager daylight that sifted around the edges of the heavy drapes.

  How was she going to handle this? Pretend it had never happened. No use beating themselves up over what almost took place here. Almost didn’t count. Not unless you let it. Okay, she would wake him up and see.

  “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” she growled.

  It was time they got out of this motel room before they went crazy again, she thought with a roll of her eyes. What the devil had they been thinking?

  He stirred, propped himself up on one elbow and yawned. The covers slipped down around his waist. She longed to crawl in beside him and snuggle for another hour or so. A truly unproductive thought.

  “C’mon,” she insisted, sweeping up his sweats off the chair and tossing them so they landed against his chest. A very impressive chest it was, too, with that mat of dark brown curls on light bronze muscles. “Put your clothes on.” Please!

  The memory of the feel of him beneath her hands sent a tingle racing through her. That made her antsy. “Get a wiggle on. I’m starving.”

  She knew the exact nanosecond when the memory of their near mistake hit him. His whole body tensed. His expression turned wary.

  “No way am I going to talk about what happened,” she warned. “If you say one word, I swear I’ll leave you right here in this room and go have breakfast by myself.”

  To his credit, Will knew when to exercise caution. He had put on his poker face, and spent the next few minutes sorting out the right end of his sweatshirt by feel and then pulling it over his head.

  “Never happened. Agreed?” She left no room for argument.

  “Subject closed,” he said, his voice brusque. “Have you heard from Eric yet? Did he get Odin’s flunky?”

  “The guy is a no-show so far. Eric was still out there at the river waiting when he called earlier. Clay was on the way to relieve him so Eric could fly to Atlanta.”

  “So what now?”

  “Breakfast at the restaurant next door. Back here to catch up on the identification process I started at the safe house. I have Eric’s laptop and there’s a connection at the desk. Shouldn’t take long.”

  “What do you say we order in?” he suggested. “That way you could get right to work, do what you have to do, and we could hit the road.”

  “Fine.” Holly realized then that Will might be self-conscious about feeding himself in public. She guessed that would take some practice if you couldn’t see what you were doing. She picked up the phone.

  An hour later, well-fed but disgruntled because none of the second crop of photos Mercier sent turned out to be their man, Will and Holly set out for Atlanta.

  They made one stop at a small strip mall on the way and bought sunglasses, a change of clothes and a few toiletries before getting on the interstate.

  Will was a little nervous about letting Holly outfit him. “Think conservative,” he warned her.

  “Red silk boxers with low riders, and a skinny tee. I’ll punk your hair for you. You want high tops to go with that?”

  “I’ll get you for this.”

  She laughed and rattled a plastic bag with her purchases. “Relax. They aren’t Ralph Lauren at these prices, but you’ll still be your preppy, low-flash self. I got you some jeans. Everything else is brown. You look good in brown.” She stowed the goods in the back seat.

  “Thanks,” he said grudgingly as she got behind the wheel. “I’ll stop complaining, since you’re doing all the work.”

  “Well, use your main talent. Lay out the facts we have and analyze,” she suggested.

  “My main talent, huh? You’re sure about that?”

  “Oh, hush. You are so typically male!”

  “I hope so, thank you very much.”

  She needed to lighten up. Last night had rattled her, too. He knew Holly, and she functioned much more effectively if she could see the humor in something.

  Easing all the tension he could and getting them back on an even footing would be the best help he co
uld provide.

  “That wasn’t exactly a compliment. Don’t you guys ever think of anything else besides sex and your appeal to women?”

  “Hardly ever,” he admitted. “Once in a while, we do divert ourselves with earning a living, but I’m temporarily disabled. At least in that respect.”

  “Temporarily being the key word,” she said. “So how’s your vision this morning?”

  He turned his head toward the side window as if examining the passing scenery. “You know the French Impressionists?”

  “Why are we talking about art?”

  “Well, you don’t want to talk about sex. Monet. Ever seen his paintings?”

  She hummed the way he had heard her do so many times when she was searching her memory for something elusive. “Ah, he painted those hazy pastel things. Haystacks, right?”

  “And cathedrals, yeah. Fuzzy that up a notch more. That’s what I’m currently seeing. Only I’m not sure of the subject matter.”

  “No outlines yet,” she said, not one ounce of pity in her voice, “but better than yesterday, huh?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe,” he admitted. He kept his voice light, unaffected. Inside, he didn’t feel light at all. Talking about this was not helping him. Or his attempt to get rid of Holly’s extraneous worries so she could focus on the job.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked. He sensed she had looked over at him, could imagine her dark eyes widening the way they did whenever she asked a question.

  “I’m thinking let’s just do this when we stop for the night, and get it out of the way so we don’t have to keep dancing around it,” he said, shocking himself with the words that had just popped out of his mouth.

  He had shocked her, too, obviously. The car jerked minutely to the right before she recovered. “Are you crazy?”

  He shrugged and nodded. “I guess so. Think about it.”

  “Ha!” She switched on the radio and rap blared.

  “Oh good, now I’m blind and deaf,” he grumbled. “Forget it.”