by CJ Lyons
The faceplate fell forward into his waiting hand. He let it drop, dangling by a few wires that connected the clock face to the innards of the bomb. Vinnie saw several bricks of what looked like modeling clay and a nest of wires. They were all the same color, black. In the movies they always cut the red wire. But these were all the same, like a jigsaw puzzle with no picture to follow.
She turned her head to look back at Lucky’s face and was surprised to see a wide grin cross his features.
“I got good news and bad,” he said. He didn’t wait for her reply. “The good is he stole one of my designs. Bad news, I need more wire to bridge the connection to the default trigger before we defuse it. And we have to move in absolute synchrony, or it will blow.”
“Will stripping one of the extension cords do?” Vinnie asked.
“Might. Not perfect, but it’s all we have.”
That didn’t sound so encouraging. Vinnie had a better idea. She squirmed, unbuttoning her shirt pocket. She pulled out Lucky’s rabbit foot, dangled it above them.
“How about this?” She began unweaving the lanyard of electrical wire.
Lucky’s whoop of delight rang through the small space. “Vinnie, you’re a genius.”
As soon as Vinnie had a length long enough to suit his needs, Lucky snatched it from her fingers. He took the Leatherman from her, efficiently stripped both ends with one hand, the copper wire gleaming in the light of the headlamp. They moved several feet toward the second car, following a wire hidden behind the inch thick cable that connected the cars, to a second box, this one without a clock.
Lucky stretched the wire out, checking its length. It reached around the box to the wires on either side.
“Here’s where it gets tricky,” he continued. “I need you to shave away the coating on my left side, but without cutting the wires inside. Give me about a centimeter or so to work with.”
He demonstrated with his good hand, then handed his Leatherman back to Vinnie and directed her to a location on his bad side. She reached up to the now minuscule appearing wire. She was supposed to cut off the outer plastic, something maybe as thick as a few strands of hair, but without slicing too deep? What did he think she was, a brain surgeon?
“Like whittling tree bark,” he told her. “Peeling an apple. Just don’t yank too hard on that, now.”
Vinnie took a deep breath, steadied herself. She placed the knife against the wire at an angle, gently skimmed it across the wire. Nothing, not even a nick.
“That’s right,” Lucky said, his voice soothing, calming her jangled nerves. “Nice and steady, one foot in front of the other. Try it again, just a little more pressure.”
Her fingers obeyed his commands, the thin ribbon of plastic peeling away, exposing the copper filaments below. Vinnie blew out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“Nice work.”
He smiled at her, then Vinnie realized the flaw in his plan. There was barely enough room for his handcuffed hands to bridge the space, but...
“How are you going to keep your left hand up there?”
“You’re not the only one around here that’s pigheaded. Get back in position and find the wire that comes from the upper right hand corner of the timer and travels down to the small, copper plate behind the explosives. Tell me when you’ve got that one clear.”
Vinnie tried to ignore the flashlight shaking in her hand as she found the wire he wanted. At least she hoped it was the right one. She stole a look at the timer. Six minutes.
“All right now,” Lucky said and Vinnie could swear that he was enjoying this. “Get ready to cut that wire on three. Then hot foot it over here, cut my wire in the middle. Ready?”
Vinnie changed the blade on the Leatherman. She slid the wire between the jaws of the cutter.
“Ready.” She turned to look at Lucky. The flashlight’s stark beam made him look pale as a ghost. He was straining to get his left hand into position. Pain crossed his face, but when his gaze met hers, the pain was replaced by a smile.
“Isn’t this more fun than that wretched bridge of yours?” he asked with a grin.
Vinnie laughed, immediately tried to stop her hand from shaking and returned her focus to the wire in front of her.
“Okay, now. One, two, three!”
CHAPTER 46
The pain in his shoulder didn’t bother Lucky anymore. Not as much as the way his entire arm shook, threatening to dislodge the bridging circuit he’d created.
“Any time, Vinnie,” he called. Sweat was pooling down his back from the effort it took to hold his arm up.
“I’m coming,” she called out.
Thank God. Just a few seconds more. He could hold it that long. He had to.
A small hand crept from the darkness and reached up to snip the wire connected to the default detonator.
“The other side as well,” he said through gritted teeth.
Vinnie’s hand was sure as she stretched across him and cut the second wire. Then, without his having to tell her, she wrapped her fingers around the left-hand connection, securing it as his fingers fell away.
Lucky blew out his breath. Damn, the woman had good timing—of course, that was what got them into all this, wasn’t it? If she hadn’t come along that mountain road when she had...
Vinnie squirmed over top of him in a way that made him appreciate the contours of her body once again. She tightened the connections on both sides, then looked up at him.
“So, we’re good to go, right?”
Wistful thinking. Lucky smiled at her, wishing he had an eternity to fall into those gorgeous eyes of hers. It would be like swimming among the stars, warm, dark, effortless.
“Sorry, all we’ve done is buy us some time.”
She frowned, opened her mouth to protest and Lucky knew she was expecting something like a Hollywood movie where the good guys always cut the red wire to save the world and the hero rode off into the sunset with the pretty girl.
“What do we need to do now?” she asked, her voice steady.
“Best of all worlds, we’d move these tankers far away from any people, but since we don’t have a locomotive engine handy, I’ll have to do the second best.”
“You mean we.” Her eyes narrowed.
Lucky shook his head. “Sorry, Smokey, this is strictly a one man job. The way The Preacher rigged this bomb, it’s not very stable. I’ve got to get it as far away from these tankers as soon as possible. Then the Metro guys can dispose of it.”
“If it’s so unstable, I should do it.”
He sighed. If only it was that easy. Stopping the timers and the fail-safe detonator had been child’s play compared with actually dismantling the bomb.
Maybe he should just wait for the Metro guys. But a spark, a vibration in the wrong direction and they and half the city were toast.
Before he met Vinnie, the decision would have been easy. But now...
“Vinnie, go on, get out of here. I’ll be fine.” She opened her mouth to protest, and he placed his hand over it. “Don’t give me any of that all or none crap. I know what I’m doing, and you’ll just have to trust me. The only thing that can keep me from doing my job is worrying about you. I need to know that you’re safe, Vinnie. That’s everything.”
He met her earnest gaze, raised his hand to ruffle her hair, the neat braid long gone. She turned her head, kissed the palm of his hand, her lips sliding down to rest against the pulse at the base of his thumb.
How to explain to her that she meant more to him than his own life? Saving the lives of thousands came second to saving this one woman who’d brought him back from the icy depths of the hell that he had been imprisoned in since last month.
He didn’t try to capture his feelings with words. Instead he pulled her closer, until they were face to face. His lips met hers with a kiss that resonated through his body, left him shaking as he tried to convey everything that he had no words to explain.
Her mouth was greedy on his, threatened to devo
ur him, as if she understood perfectly. He opened his eyes to meet hers in the dim light and felt dizzy as if he was falling, spiraling into their dark depths.
He remembered the heart doctor asking him what he’d do with his second chance at life. Lucky had found his answer, he needed nothing more to make his life complete.
“I love you.” His words echoed along the rails, repeating themselves into infinity. As if they’d never die. Lucky liked that idea.
Vinnie gave him one of those smiles that lit her entire face and made his heart stutter. “You’ve been saying that practically ever since we first met.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Then prove it and make sure you get out of this alive.”
The clatter of footsteps interrupted his reply.
“Hey guys, what’s shaking?” Rose Prospero called out, ducking her head under the train car.
Lucky hit his head on the car’s undercarriage as he jerked it up. He couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him at the sight of Rose, acting like she’d stopped by to chat about the playoffs. Should’ve known he hadn’t fooled her—sometimes he thought the rumors about her gypsy grandmother were true.
“Sorry it took me so long,” she continued as Vinnie squirmed her way out from under the train, and Lucky followed. “That third guy tried to rabbit. The pros from the Metro Bomb Squad are right behind me.”
Lucky allowed the two women to help him up and gestured with his cuffed hands. “Don’t suppose you’ve a spare key on you?”
Rose grinned, looking from him to Vinnie. “I heard from Chase that you have a thing for handcuffs. Isn’t that what you got him and KC for their wedding?”
She tsked as she rummaged in her jeans pocket for the key. Lucky felt his face flush, saw Vinnie raise an eyebrow at him.
“It was a joke,” he muttered.
“What would your mother say?” Rose gave the handcuff key to Vinnie. “I’ll let you decide. You look like you’ve got some sense.”
The sound of running footsteps reverberated through the tunnel as the Metro guys arrived. Complete with a portable disposal unit.
Vinnie dangled the handcuff key just out of reach as she tugged on his belt. “C’mon, Lucky. You still owe me a night at the Ritz.”
Lucky strained to look over his shoulder as the Bomb Squad deployed. “It’s rigged with a—”
“Relax, Lucky,” Rose said, shepherding him down the tracks. “They’ve got it. Go on, get out of here.”
“But The Preacher, his plans—”
“We’ve got it covered.” Rose looked at Vinnie, then back to Lucky. “Your only duty right now, Agent Cavanaugh,” she said in a voice of command, “is to get this civilian to safety. Understood?”
Lucky felt his face relax into a smile. Wasn’t that what he’d been wanting to do all along? “Yes, ma’am. My pleasure.”
CHAPTER 47
Vinnie emerged from the shower feeling like a queen. She wrapped the luxurious robe the hotel provided tight around her and ran the thick, Egyptian cotton towel over her hair. Her image in the mirror was that of a stranger, shimmering in the fog of steam. The overhead lights glinted from her wedding band as she held it up before her.
She wasn’t the same woman who had married Michael, not the same woman who had lost him twenty-seven months ago. Vinnie slid the ring off, her hand trembling as she set it on the vanity.
All or none. Lucky deserved no less from her.
Lucky was sprawled across the bed, talking on the phone, wearing a similar robe, his own hair wet. She looked around. Two bathrooms? It was hard to remember the last time she’d spent the night in a place with any indoor plumbing, much less two fully equipped baths.
He looked up at her, a wide grin on his face as he reached for a notepad from the antique nightstand. He began scribbling, wedging the phone between his head and good shoulder. “Really? That soon?”
The wide screen TV had CNN on mute. Vinnie crossed over to the room service trays Lucky indicated with a nod of his head. Images of police raids, an explosion, a ship surrounded by Coast Guard cutters all flickered across the screen.
The announcer’s face was animated as if excited by the busy news day. She read the caption for a minute, was gratified to see no law enforcement or civilian casualties listed.
Vinnie threw her towel to one side. She couldn’t keep from smiling, wanted to grin, laugh, spin around like a kid let out of school early. It was so hard to believe that everything had worked out all right after all.
Champagne sat chilling beside strawberries and cream on one tray. She poured a glass for each of them, set them on the nightstand beside Lucky. She raised the cover of the last dish to find a small teapot and a plate of what had to be crumpets.
Laughing out loud, she threw herself onto the bed, earning a mock frown from Lucky as she jostled his note pad.
She reached for the strawberries, dipped one in cream and held it out, teasing him with it. As he opened his mouth and nipped at it, she pulled it away and bit it in half, allowing the juice to run down her chin and fingers.
She licked her fingers, reveling in the succulent taste of the decadent, out of season fruit, her eyes never leaving Lucky’s. What a fool she’d been. Allowing her fear of possible pain almost prevent her from grabbing the joy that was before her, here and now. Idiot.
Snagging another strawberry, she leaned forward, hovering near Lucky’s face alongside the phone. She heard a man’s voice but couldn’t make out the words. This time she allowed Lucky to capture the fruit from her fingers.
“I love you,” she mouthed the words, trying them on for size as he chewed.
He nodded vaguely, his attention on the phone, then his gaze cut back to her. “Hang on,” he said, covering the receiver with his hand. “What did you say?”
She dipped another strawberry in cream. “Who me? Nothing.”
“You sure? I thought—” Vinnie gave him a bland look. He frowned, returned the receiver to his ear. “I’ll just be a minute more.”
I don’t think so. She rolled onto her back, stretched out across the satin duvet. They’d wasted enough time already, allowed too many people to come between them.
Vinnie raised the strawberry, dangled it over her face, the cream dripping into her mouth, then slowly, enticingly licked the outside. Lucky reached for her, but she squirmed out of reach. He watched with hungry eyes as she allowed her robe to fall open. She swallowed the strawberry.
His replies to whoever was on the phone deteriorated to monosyllabic grunts, but that wasn’t good enough for Vinnie.
She rolled over, propped herself up on one elbow like a woman in a Rubens painting. His gaze swept down the length of her body and she shivered as if he had stroked her with his fingers.
Still, he didn’t hang up the damn phone. Better be The President. Then she decided she didn’t care even if it was The President.
She sat up, reached across him for a flute of champagne, allowing her breasts to brush across his chest. Tilting her head back, she took a drink of the champagne. Then, her fingers tugging his robe open, she drizzled more onto his naked chest and belly. He jumped, made a noise as she lowered her mouth.
“Can we talk about this later?” he said into the phone.
Vinnie moved her mouth down his body, tasting, savoring and especially enjoying the quivering of his muscles as her tongue stroked him. His breath caught again, a shudder raced through him, and the phone dropped to the bed.
Mission accomplished. She slid on top of him, pushing herself up until she straddled him. She shrugged out of her robe one shoulder at a time, switching the champagne glass from one hand to the other. His eyes followed her motions, his mouth hung open.
She tilted the glass, allowed the rest of the champagne to stream down over her breasts. The pulse at the side of his neck jumped, and she grinned, dropping the glass onto the bed beside the phone.
He shook himself, blinked, then his hands and mouth were on her, savoring, tantalizing, drinking he
r in. Vinnie felt the heat in her grow. Unlike their first night of white-hot passion, this was a smoldering flame that she was certain would never die.
Starting a family was something she and Michael had never felt the time was right for, but now she had a vision of a dozen towheaded hellions running around, all looking like Lucky and up to no good, and it felt like paradise. She couldn’t think of a better time than the present to start.
Lucky’s tongue lapped the rest of the champagne, his breath tickling the moist skin left behind. Silent laughter rippled through her body as she twined her fingers in his hair.
“Do you like kids?”
“Sure, love ‘em,” he said absently.
“I want kids, lots of kids,” she said. “And I want them all to be just like you.”
Lucky tore his attention away from her breast, lay his chin on her sternum as he tilted his head up to look at her. Something in her expression must have startled him because he leveraged her weight until they were both sitting upright, face to face.
“It’s the adrenalin, it gives you a kind of high, makes you drunk with the possibilities,” he said, paraphrasing her own words back to her.
She shook her head stubbornly. “All or none, Cavanaugh. What’s it gonna be?”
A quick look of irritation passed over his face. “Vinnie, can’t we talk about this later—”
No way. She wasn’t going farther, risking it all until she knew how he felt. How he really felt, now that they were back on his turf, no men with guns, no countdown to save the world.
She rolled off him, tossed him the phone she landed on. He turned to her, his hand reaching out to her. She shrugged it away, locked her gaze with his. “Who was on the phone?”
He sighed. “I’m sorry about that. Really.” He inched closer, tried to move in for a kiss that she avoided. “All right. It was the head of the National Academy. It’s kind of like Top Gun for cops. Rose somehow found time to give him a call.”
