Hot Pursuit

by Christina Skye

  “That’s the spirit.”

  Taylor smiled at her friend. “Anybody ever tell you you’re pretty damned smart?”

  “All the time.” Sunny pointed to the door. “Now get going. Your therapy session just ended.”

  Taylor slung her beaded silk scarf over one shoulder. “On my way. I just needed to work though one last crisis. Thanks for being here, Sunny.”

  “Anytime. Break a leg.”

  The music soared. “I’ll try.” Taylor squared her shoulders, then vanished outside.

  “You won’t thank me tomorrow,” Sunny called. “Not when the new shipment of Green Goddess drinks arrives.”

  Taylor hadn’t gotten twenty feet before Sunny’s uncle zeroed in on her. “Is anything wrong?”

  “Not anymore.” Surprisingly, it was true. Sunny’s speech had helped throw Taylor’s anxiety into perspective. She wouldn’t hide from the changes in her life. Instead, she would celebrate them as doors to new opportunity. “Sunny says you brought your whole reading club.”

  “Right over there, all fifteen of them.” Vinnie pointed to a well-dressed, athletic-looking group of men. “We were going to read the new John Grisham this month, but that idea got voted down. We decided to reread your first book instead.”

  Touched, Taylor waved at a short man with a deep tan, perfect white teeth, and a broken nose. The man waved back at her, smiling broadly.

  “That’s Anthony Delveccio. He used to be an accountant in Atlantic City, and now he’s our club treasurer. Smart fellow.”

  Taylor sensed a story screaming there somewhere, but she didn’t have time to pursue it because the mayor closed in, two photographers in his wake.

  “Ms. O’Toole, I’m so pleased you could come. I have a dozen people hoping to meet you.” His voice fell as he bent his head closer. “Of course, they know nothing about what really happened, even though the press has gotten wind that Harris Rains was involved in something big and possibly nasty.”

  “So I hear. One of them just cornered me in the ladies’ room.”

  The mayor gestured sharply to his side. “I’ll put a stop to that.” He said a few words and the aide vanished. “I’ll see that her press privileges are revoked and she is escorted from the premises.” Camera bulbs flashed and the mayor angled his head, smiling confidently for the first of the evening’s photographs.

  Taylor smiled back, trying to hide her anxiety as she scanned the crowd.

  She was searching for a Navy uniform and a pair of strong, broad shoulders as more flashbulbs went off around her.

  Taylor was on her third glass of champagne an hour later, but there was still no sign of Jack. She’d met all the mayor’s friends and listened to their stories. She’d danced with a CEO from Walnut Creek and a Pulitzer-winning journalist from Berkeley. Her feet ached, she was tired, and she wanted to go home.

  Where was Jack?

  As a waiter passed, she scooped up her fourth glass of champagne. At least she wouldn’t be feeling any pain tonight when she went home to her lonely apartment and her empty bed.

  “No more champagne for you.”

  Taylor glared at the man in the pristine white waiter’s uniform. “The least you can let me do is get drunk. The danger’s over, remember?”

  Izzy searched her face, remaining cool and distinguished even while dressed as a waiter. “So it appears.”

  “What happened to Jack?”

  “He’s tied up. Paperwork.”

  Taylor frowned. “And Lemka was definitely the one behind Candace’s murder?”

  “No doubt about it. We’ve impounded all of Rains’ papers from the lab in Mexico, and his staff there is being interrogated as we speak. No material made it out to his employers in South America,” he added quietly. “We caught Lemka’s men in time.”

  Taylor breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God. The last thing we need is a new biological weapon unleashed on the world.”

  “The government owes you for all your help, Taylor. I expect you’ll be receiving a personal call to that effect in the next few days.”

  “There’s no need to thank me.” Taylor was staring at the crowd, mulling over something Izzy had said. “Wait a minute. How can you be so sure that none of the recombinant ricin got through to South America?”

  Izzy didn’t answer.

  The truth came to Taylor in a horrifying flash. “You know because a team went down and set up surveillance. They probably monitored all phone calls and radio traffic.” The image made her knees go weak. “Jack was with them, wasn’t he?” The words were a whisper. “That’s why he’s not here—because something happened down there.”

  Izzy measured the emotions playing over her face. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to say it. We both know that dangerous missions are Jack’s specialty. Because this was personal, he’d be the first to volunteer.”

  Izzy set her champagne glass down on a nearby table. “He definitely wanted to be here. The mayor pulled all the strings he could, but they weren’t enough. Jack’s part of an important team, Taylor. They have experience in areas that make them unique.”

  Taylor wanted to ask what kind of areas.

  But she didn’t. Izzy’s face told her this was another topic he wasn’t free to discuss.

  She drew her scarf slowly around her shoulders. “I thought I knew what I was getting into with Jack. I thought I could handle the questions and the worry. Now I’m not so sure.” She pulled the scarf tighter. “Meanwhile, I have two questions. Who was the inside leak?”

  “Agent Rodriguez’s partner, I’m afraid.”

  “Last question: Did Rains ever threaten Candace?”

  “Not according to Martha.”

  “So that was a lie, too.” Taylor felt the cold taste of betrayal. She had swallowed Candace’s tale of woe completely. “So she slept with Rains for money.”

  “Maybe she had some feelings for the man.”

  It was a weak lie, and they both knew it.

  Taylor shivered. “I don’t feel very good, Izzy. I—I think I’d better go.”

  “I’ll take you.”

  “No need. I can catch a cab.”

  “I’ll take you,” he repeated, his tone inviting no argument. He waited while she said her good-byes, then escorted her to the front door, where the wind whipped up from the bay, sharp and cold.

  “Give yourself some time,” he said quietly, motioning to a car nearby.

  When the dark sedan pulled up, its driver jumped out, and Izzy opened Taylor’s door. “He’s a good man, Taylor, but you’re both going to have to make some serious changes. Jack has always gone by the book, and following the rules isn’t exactly your strong point.”

  “So we’re oil and water. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  As she slid into the seat, Izzy glanced across at her. “Oil and water make a great salad, just as long as you handle them properly. Shake them up a little, add the right spices, and they’re a killer combo.”

  “Is this a cooking lesson or Relationships 101?”

  “Neither. Just some friendly advice from someone who has seen too many people walk away without trying. I like you both too much to see that happen.”

  Taylor’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see you wearing a ring.”

  Izzy grinned. “Hell, no.” He started the car and slid smoothly out into traffic. “Just because I dish out great advice doesn’t mean I take it myself.”

  They didn’t talk on the drive. Taylor was busy trying to hide her disappointment at Jack’s absence, and Izzy was too polite to mention the sprinkling of tears she’d brushed away in the car.

  “I know Jack. He doesn’t do things lightly.” Izzy parked and escorted Taylor inside, stopping outside her door. “Give yourself time to see where the relationship is headed before you jump ship.”

  “I’ve never been strong on patience.” Taylor opened her door and waved as Izzy got back on the elevator. Her feet were aching with a vengeance now, and she sighed
as she dropped her keys on the table by the door.

  Stepping out of her stiletto heels was going to be an orgasmic experience.

  “Hold it right there.”

  Hard hands gripped her waist. Taylor froze, her heart pumping as callused fingers moved along her waist, then tightened, turning her slowly.

  She took a racing breath. “You made it.”

  Jack was wearing his white dress uniform, his face shadowed in the darkness. “It wasn’t easy.” He pulled her closer, inhaling. “You smell incredible.”

  For a moment, Taylor was tongue-tied. She had forgotten how tall he was, how commanding his presence. How much she loved him.

  “How did you get in?”

  “Mrs. Pulaski saw me downstairs and loaned me her key. She said to have fun.”

  “Do you charm every woman you meet?”

  “It took me a long time to get close to one, and she was the only woman who mattered.” Jack touched her face, then held out a thick envelope. “The doorman asked me to bring this up. A courier dropped it off after you left tonight.”

  Taylor glanced at the address label.

  The lawyer. More questions she couldn’t answer.

  Taylor held the envelope for a moment, then dropped it on her desk. She still hadn’t decided what to do about her search for her birth parents. No matter what she chose, someone would be betrayed. “I’ll look at it later.”

  “No decision yet?”

  Taylor shook her head. Discussing her adoption conflicts was the last thing she wanted to do now that Jack was here. “Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

  “It was a long flight.” He looked at her dress and frowned. “Look, I’m sorry I missed the mayor’s dinner tonight, but things didn’t . . . work out.”

  Taylor bit back a dozen questions and slid her arms around his neck. “No problem. You would have been dead bored inside ten minutes.”

  “Not with you in the same room.”

  “I think we can come up with something better than chitchat and handshakes over champagne cocktails.”

  His eyes darkened. “Is that an offer?”

  “What do you think?” She tilted her head, brushing his lips lightly with hers until Jack made a rough sound and pulled her closer, his strong arms closing around her.

  She ran a hand along his chest and saw his jaw tighten. “Did something happen to you, Jack?”

  “I told you, I’m fine. Come see what I brought you.”

  He was probably lying, which didn’t surprise Taylor since the man would never admit to weakness or pain. But before the night was over, she’d find out the truth about how badly he’d been hurt, and God help him if he expected to play macho tough guy with a serious wound.

  Taylor was surprised when he held out a handwoven bag the size of her palm. “You had time to shop?”

  “Not exactly. It was pretty strange. We were miles from any town, up in the hills near—” He stopped, shook his head. “Doesn’t matter where, just in some hills. Suddenly this old lady appears out of the fog, her face lined and dark like a walnut. After what feels like forever, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out this bag. At first she says something in a dialect I don’t understand, then she switches to Spanish. ‘For the woman of your heart,’ she says. ‘Let them carry her sadness now.’ ” Jack looked into the darkness and Taylor felt him slip back to that distant place he couldn’t tell her about. “Something about her voice made my skin itch. She had a wild sort of laugh, and she refused to take the bag back. She wouldn’t accept any money, either.” He pressed the bright fabric into Taylor’s hand. “So here it is.”

  “Am I what she said?”

  “Woman of my heart.” Jack’s fingers tightened on Taylor’s hand. “Always. There’s no going back, not for me.”

  Suddenly the bag felt very heavy in Taylor’s hand. She had to make him see all the problems looming before them.

  She took a deep breath. “I’ve never made it to six months before, Jack.”

  “Never?”

  She shook her head. “My record at relationships isn’t exactly promising. Actually, it’s hopeless.”

  He seemed pleased by the news. “So we’ll start with a clean slate. If something works, we keep it. If not, it gets tossed.”

  “It’s not that easy. People always have emotional baggage. Heaven knows, I have a closet full.” Taylor opened the small bag, stunned at the beautifully made set of seven bright dolls. Each had a distinctive face sewn with tiny stitches, along with matching hair and clothes. In the darkness, they looked amazingly lifelike.

  “One sadness every night,” Jack said. “That’s what the old lady said.”

  Taylor slid the exquisite little dolls back into the bag. “They’re lovely, Jack. But—”

  “We start with a clean slate, Taylor. Try it and see what happens.”

  He watched her as he bent his head, kissing her hard until she went boneless against him. As his hands closed on her hair, he took a deep breath.

  Being here felt like a dream after the last eight days in hell. The mission had been harder than expected, and one of his team had been badly wounded. In spite of that, the operation had been a success, bringing definitive proof that Harris Rains’ discoveries had not left the U.S. Jack was still hurting where he’d been kicked by a goon who had appeared out of nowhere while the team was hunkered down, waiting for extraction. The man and his friends had been high on peyote and gut-busting local tequila, and they’d been hard to subdue without attracting unwanted attention.

  Jack didn’t want Taylor to see the bruise that covered most of his side, so he figured he’d work fast and keep her distracted. “About that offer you made . . .”

  Taylor’s voice was thready with passion. “I have some wine around here, if you want.”

  When she touched his right side, he managed to bite back a hiss of pain. “Forget the wine.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her open palm. “All I want is you naked, beneath me in that big bed, surrounded by blue pillows.”

  Her dress slid free and fluttered to the floor, a wave of silk and crystal beads that shimmered in the moonlight. “How’s that?”

  “Words fail me.”

  “You’re sure you’re up to this?” Taylor asked softly.

  He gave her a slow, cocky grin. “Ask me that question in ten minutes.”

  Taylor pulled open the top button on his shirt. “Something tells me I won’t have to.”

  Jack swung her up into his arms. When he sank down on top of her, she touched his face gently. “As far as I can tell, everything seems to be in working order.”

  “Maybe you need firsthand evidence of that.”

  “Good idea.” She slid her body slowly over his.

  “God, you take my breath away.” He skimmed her skin inch by inch, stopping at the shadow above her thighs. “Every night I saw you in my mind, just like this.”

  “Then why am I the only one naked here?”

  “Because I’m trying to take my time about this.”

  She drew him down toward her. “You can take your time later.” Taylor found his zipper and eased him free, teasing him between her warm fingers.

  Jack frowned. “I swore tonight would be controlled, gentle, full of finesse. I wanted that for you. For us.”

  “When I want gentle, I’ll tell you.” Taylor levered her body against his, her eyes dark with challenge.

  “Hell.” Jack buried his fingers in her hair and sank deep, feeling her body shiver beneath his. His control was fraying, and he couldn’t get deep enough, close enough. He needed her panting, just as desperate as he was.

  A moment later he got his wish. Taylor’s nails dug into his back, tiny bursts of pain in perfect counterpoint to the mind-shredding slide of her body rising against his.

  Need snarled, driving him right to the edge, and Jack barely winced as her arm struck his bruised ribs.

  He didn’t feel the pain. There was only Taylor and the magic their bodies wove in the darkness.r />
  Their fingers slid together, clenched hard. When she gasped his name and rocked against him, Jack felt his heart slam against his chest.

  Then there was only the smell of her perfume, the heat of her skin, and finally the reckless urgency as he lost himself deep inside her.

  Taylor didn’t move.

  Jack lay motionless beside her, his breathing slow and even. When she was certain he was asleep, she rose carefully on one elbow, studying his naked body in the moonlight.

  A shallow scar ran along his collarbone. A huge bruise mottled his right side. Both were new, courtesy of his last mission.

  How could she ever get used to this shadow world he lived in, with its dangers that he could never discuss?

  More questions.

  She eased to her feet, moonlight spilling cold and clear around her. On the bed Jack muttered, curling his body toward the warm spot she had just left, one hand opening over her pillow.

  She closed her eyes, hit by slivers of pain. Love wasn’t the problem. Trust wasn’t in question, either. Men didn’t come more honorable than Jack. But Taylor wasn’t sixteen anymore, wasn’t young and fresh and malleable. How could a stubborn, independent woman change enough to meet an equally stubborn, independent man halfway?

  She stared down at her wounded hero, asleep in the moonlight. He had loved her with grim desperation, as if to wipe away haunting memories. Sensing the depth of his need, she had offered herself completely, holding nothing back. She had never been so focused in the physical, so vulnerable to the emotions racing through her.

  No going back.

  She picked up one of the dolls from their bag near the open window and whispered just how much she loved him and how frightened she was of failing at the one relationship that mattered. Around her the curtains moved, drifting high, touching her bare shoulders like a cool caress. The tiny face looked back at her, calm and infinitely wise.

  She slid her hand over Jack’s uniform jacket, ghostly in the light from the window. His collar was folded and one shoulder dangled low on the back of the chair where he’d hung it. Carefully, Taylor gathered the crisp fabric against her skin, inhaling the faint male scent of his body. And in that moment, she knew.