Tell Me No Lies

by Elizabeth Lowell

  "Which ones?" demanded O'Donnel.

  "My bank's name won't help you, and I won't know the name of the receiving bank until Lindsay approves the bronzes."

  "Any chance the bronzes are fakes?" O'Donnel asked.

  "That would make Chen Yi a very happy man, and put our asses right on the firing line with the rest of the PRC," Catlin said dryly. "The people doing the selling are very confident of the goods, or they wouldn't let Lindsay within fifty miles." He hesitated, then shrugged. "But there's always a chance of fakes, I suppose, just like a snowball in hell has a chance of staying frozen."

  Stone grunted. "Okay. Five minutes to get down to business. Fifteen minutes with the bronzes. Ten minutes with the banks. Half an hour total. That's not much time for us to get everything in place, especially if the bronzes are in a low traffic area where we'll stick out like daisies on shit. If that's the way it is, we'll have to come in on titty-fingers."

  "If the deal goes down in someone's shop," Catlin said, "you should have a clear view of the bronzes being loaded. You can close in as soon as Lindsay and I get in the van. If it's a warehouse job, add fifteen minutes to load the bronzes. If a van doesn't come out by then, come in and get us."

  Assuming, of course, that the FBI hadn't lost them somewhere on San Francisco's narrow, steep streets. No one mentioned that possibility, however. It was just one of the many risks that would be taken because there was no other choice. For several minutes there was silence while Stone turned the plan over in his mind, probing for weaknesses. There were many, but given the restrictions of time and information, there was little to be done.

  "All right," Stone said finally. He looked at Catlin and asked, "You recognize anyone you saw today?"

  "Lee Tran, a.k.a. Tom Lee."

  Stone paused. "You sure?"

  "Very."

  "Be damned. Spying isn't his style. Recognize anyone else?" Stone asked.

  "No."

  "Too bad. Well, I've got some calls to make," Stone said. "I don't want to tie up your phone. Stay here, Terry. I'll send over some more mug shots. Maybe Catlin and Lindsay can ID somebody for us."

  Catlin went to the hall door, opened it and glanced casually up and down the hall. No one was in sight. Catlin turned away from the door and silently signaled. Stone walked out. O'Donnel locked and bolted the door behind him and turned back just in time to see Catlin closing the bedroom door behind himself.

  "Going to help Lindsay shower?" O'Donnel asked innocently.

  "I'm going to take my own advice," Catlin retorted.

  "Which is?"

  "A nap. Hong Kong banks open real early, California time."

  The door shut firmly behind Catlin. He went to his suitcase and took out a small, narrow wedge. Using the heel of his hand, he silently tapped the wedge into the thin line between bedroom door and frame. Any attempt to open the door from the living room would only result in jamming the wedge in even tighter. It wasn't that Catlin thought someone was going to come sneaking into the bedroom. It was simply that he knew Lindsay would sleep better in the certainty that only she or Catlin could open the bedroom door.

  The bathroom door was closed. The sound of the shower was very clear for a moment, then stopped. Catlin hesitated before he turned away from the bathroom door, went to the closet and looked at the clothes Lindsay had brought to San Francisco. When they went to see the bronzes, he wanted her to wear something easy to move in and not of a color that would make her an obvious target. As the call would probably come in the middle of the night, everything should be ready in advance.

  The hum of a hair dryer came from the bathroom as Catlin went expertly through Lindsay's clothes. Finally he selected jeans and a soft blue-gray cashmere sweater. Her running shoes were next, followed by a supple suede jacket in a shade of blue that was as dark as her eyes. He draped the clothes over a chair and put the shoes nearby.

  The sound of the hair dryer still came from the bathroom. Catlin hesitated, then went to the door and knocked lightly. "Lindsay?"

  "Come on in. I'm decent."

  Only the knowledge that the bathroom was bugged kept Catlin from expressing his disappointment. He opened the door and went in – and then stood very still, looking at Lindsay.

  She was in front of the sink, drying her hair. The bathroom was steamy and scented with her perfume. Catlin hardly noticed the tantalizing aroma, for he was too caught up in the picture Lindsay made to have attention left over for anything else. She was wearing a pale rose teddy with lace flowers placed in such a way as to make the dark pink tips of her breasts into the center of the flowers. The sight of Lindsay's graceful twisting movements as she brushed and blow dried her hair drove everything from Catlin's mind but memories of how she had softened and run like honey in his hands, of her nails pricking him to full awareness and of her shivering cries of completion when he came deep inside her.

  Quietly Catlin cursed the electronic eavesdroppers that would prevent him from hearing those elemental sounds again. And then there was O'Donnel in the living room with nothing to do but listen to the silence. There was no real privacy in the hotel suite, no chance to make love to Lindsay until she screamed with pleasure. They wouldn't be alone again until Chen Yi's game was over.

  Which was the same as saying that Catlin wouldn't be alone with Lindsay again. Ever.

  He went to stand behind her, not stopping until he was so close to her that he could feel the scented warmth rising from her body. Slowly he bent and kissed her bare shoulder.

  "How are you feeling?" he asked, looking at her eyes in the mirror.

  "Better every second," she said, tilting her head to one side to give him free access to the curve of her neck, smiling as his mustache stroked her like a silk brush.

  "I put out some clothes for you,'' he said against her neck.

  As Catlin spoke, his hands slid beneath Lindsay's raised arms. He smoothed down the curving, feminine lines of her body to her thighs before allowing his hands to move up her torso. He cupped her breasts in his palms and watched her in the mirror as she shivered. He bent his head again, found the sensitive network of nerves at the shoulder joint and caressed them with his teeth.

  "Th-thank you. For the clothes."

  The passionate catch in Lindsay's voice went through Catlin like heat lightning. He felt her breasts change beneath his hands, her nipples rising and hardening at his touch. Blood pulsed hotly, settling between his legs, making him rise and harden even as she had until he could count each heartbeat in the erect flesh straining against his jeans.

  "When we go to see the bronzes," Catlin said, tugging at Lindsay's nipples, smiling at the ripple of response he could see in the mirror, feel beneath his hands, "I want you to be wearing clothes that won't hobble you."

  "I – " Her voice broke as she watched his hands shift until her nipples stood out between his fingers and he squeezed gently, rhythmically. "Y-yes," she said. "That's – fine."

  Hands trembling, Lindsay shut off the hair dryer and put it aside. The hairbrush followed. But when she would have turned toward Catlin, he held her in a sensual vise, keeping her back to him. With exquisite care he scraped his fingernails over her erect nipples. He bit the nape of her neck gently as he teased and tugged at her breasts, feeling her helpless response in the movement of her hips against his thighs.

  "I knew you'd see it my way," Catlin said, looking up, watching Lindsay in the mirror. She didn't notice. She was watching his hands on her body, and the expression on her face made him want to groan with anticipation. He throttled the sound, knowing how close the bug was. "You see, I want you to be able to move freely," he added in a gritty voice.

  Catlin's hard male hand slid down Lindsay's body, stopping only when his fingers were cupped between the warmth of her legs. He felt the hot silk of the teddy and the two snaps that held the lingerie in place, preventing him from caressing the soft, humid flesh that was so close and yet so far away from his touch. Slowly he eased his
finger between the snaps. Lindsay's breath came in sharply as she felt the tiny, probing caress.

  "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice husky, taut. "Are-"

  And then she could talk no longer, for Catlin's other hand had closed over her mouth, stifling her moan of pleasure as he teased the hungry, hardening nub of nerves hidden within the soft, feminine folds.

  "Very sure," Catlin said. He tugged in slow motion, feeling the teddy's snaps give way one by one. "And quiet," he said, his voice almost hoarse. "That's why I put your running shoes out. No one will be able to hear a thing. So just relax, honey cat. Don't worry. I'll take care of everything. Every little thing."

  Lindsay met Catlin's eyes in the mirror. He smiled at her even as he caressed her. Almost helplessly she glanced down, and the sight of him touching her so intimately sent a wild, liquid pleasure coursing through her. He felt her sudden heat and wanted to groan in sheer male triumph. His hand slid up beneath the unsnapped teddy until he could feel her naked breasts. She arched her back, her eyes closed, and her tongue flicked rhythmically over the hard palm holding back her passionate cries.

  Catlin's hand moved away from Lindsay's breasts, back down her body until he could tease the dark bronze hair concealing her velvet femininity. Fingers widespread, he pulled her suddenly against his aroused body, unable to bear the ache of his own hunger any longer. His palm rubbed rhythmically over her and his fingertips once more knew her liquid warmth.

  Lindsay twisted slowly against Catlin, increasing the sensual contact even as one of her hands moved down to cover his, pressing him closer to her satin heat. Her other hand reached behind her back, hungry to pleasure him as intimately as he was pleasuring her.

  After a small struggle that only increased Catlin's anticipation, Lindsay managed to undo his stubborn jeans zipper. The small sound of metal teeth parting was like a ragged breath. Her fingers sought the opening in his briefs, found it and released his hot male flesh from confinement.

  Catlin clenched his teeth at the sweet torment of Lindsay's hand loving him. Slowly his fingers slid into her, stroking her until her hips moved in the rhythms of hunger and desire. He watched the languid movements in the mirror, felt her heat and sensual abandon and saw her hand warm and hungry around him.

  And then he could bear watching no more. He closed his eyes and moved his hips as she was moving. For long, aching moments they caressed each other, wanting more but unable to do anything about it because what they had right then felt too good to stop. Finally he forced his fingers to withdraw from the wild honey of her body, only to return again and then again for the sheer pleasure of feeling her melt in his hand.

  "You look like you'd be better off lying down," Catlin said, slowly releasing her hot, soft center.

  Lindsay took a deep, ragged breath. "I think – " Her voice broke. "I know. You too."

  Catlin ran his palms over the firm swell of Lindsay's bare buttocks, flexed his fingers sensually into the resilient flesh, and watched her tremble in response. Knowing he shouldn't, unable to stop himself, he smoothed each hand around her waist and then up beneath the teddy once more, caressing her erect nipples until she bit her lip in an effort not to moan aloud.

  "Catlin-"

  With a reluctance that said more than any words could have, Catlin squeezed Lindsay's breasts once more, then slowly pulled her teddy into place between her legs and fastened it, knowing that if he saw her uncovered just once more he would lose control and take her wherever they were, whoever might be listening.

  As Lindsay brushed past Catlin on her way into the bedroom, she gave his exposed, aroused flesh a possessive look that made him bare his teeth in something more than a smile. He stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door, watching while she lay on her side and turned toward him. Her breasts were taut, full, and her nipples were the tempting centers of lacy flowers.

  Catlin pulled off his clothes with impatient motions, wanting only to be naked. She watched while he came to her with a soundless, powerful stride that made her weak with anticipation. When he bent over her and his hand moved from her ankle to her thigh, she shifted, opening her legs in answer to the silent, hot pressure of his fingers.

  "I thought – " Lindsay whispered, then bit back a cry as Catlin's nails raked lightly over the teddy's snaps, making her feel as though she had brushed against a live electrical wire. "I thought you didn't want to," she whispered, the words as ragged as the breath tearing through her body.

  "Do I look like a man who doesn't want to?" he retorted very softly, smiling as her glance swept down his body and lingered with open hunger.

  "Then why did you – " Lindsay's breath hissed in suddenly as Catlin's fingers toyed with the teddy's snaps.

  "This?" he asked, running his fingertip maddeningly over the fastenings.

  She nodded, unable to speak for fear that her words would come out as a passionate cry that would carry all too clearly.

  "Because," Catlin whispered, sliding his finger into the opening between the snaps, "I like undressing you."

  Lindsay's body arched in a sensual reflex that opened her completely to Catlin. He moved swiftly, kneeling between her legs, teasing her until she moaned very softly and he smiled.

  "I fastened this," he murmured, watching her, feeling her heat come to meet him again, "because I knew if I saw you again, I would take you right there in the bathroom until we both screamed with pleasure. Then I remembered that damn bug."

  "Does that mean we can't – "

  Catlin's probing, teasing touch took away Lindsay's words, took away her breath, took everything from her but the hot race of pleasure as he found and caressed the tight feminine nub hidden within her folded softness. She twisted, trying to increase the pressure of his caress, and he evaded even as he teased her until she shivered and melted in his hand.

  "Ahh, dragon, you're killing me by inches," she moaned.

  "No, I'm not. Not yet." The teddy's snaps gave way with two soft sounds. Catlin slid his hands beneath Lindsay's knees and pressed until her legs flexed deeply, giving her to him without reservation. "But I'm going to."

  As she looked from his hot golden eyes to the hard male body slowly, slowly taking her, she felt the tiny shuddering ecstasy well from deep within her. He felt it, too. She saw the pleasure that was almost pain tighten his face while he withdrew from her as slowly as he had entered. Then he was pressing against her again, filling her even as she melted around him, withdrawing, coming to her once more, slowly, slowly.

  The incremental withdrawal and even more gradual return made Lindsay moan helplessly. Catlin caught the sound with his mouth as he slid by slow inches into her again. Her eyelids fluttered down and she moved with abandoned grace, matching his movements as though the two of them lived in slow motion, a lifetime in each joining, each retreat, and she moaned with each tiny movement, wanting him fully, all of him buried in her softness.

  Catlin lifted his head, wanting to watch Lindsay, wanting to memorize each moment, to make it last forever because he had never felt so alive, so much a man, so many currents of wild pleasure making him tighten until he wanted to scream the release he felt gathering inside him.

  Catlin withdrew again, drawing a husky groan of pleasure and protest from Lindsay. Her eyes opened slowly, dazed with the sensations consuming her. As he took her softness again, he felt it happen for her, tiny convulsions of ecstasy rippling through her, caressing the rigid male flesh held within her body. Gently he covered her mouth with his hand, muffling her husky, helpless cries. He watched ecstasy transform her as he continued the tender penetration until he was so deeply a part of her that he could feel her climax as though it were his own. And then he realized that it was his, a shuddering wildness sweeping through him that was both gentle and more overwhelming than anything he had ever known, coming in slow motion, exploding softly.

  He saw her watching him, smiling in the knowledge of his release even as ecstasy swept through her again. He started to say
her name but could not, for the intimate ripples of her body were his, too. He thought he would die from the endless, gentle explosions that were hotter and sweeter with each shuddering pulse. He had no breath, no thought, no sight, nothing but the ecstasy consuming him, and he wondered if this was what it felt like to die.

  Chapter 25

  "Come on, come on," O'Donnel muttered urgently, looking at the luminous face of his watch. "I told you to let Catlin lose you after six minutes and it's been – "

  The sound of the radio cut off O'Donnel's words.

  "This is Five. Is One on?"

  "One here," Stone said, thumbing down the transmit button on the radio that had a built-in scrambler to discourage the thousands of citizens and crooks who enjoyed eavesdropping on police communications frequencies.

  "I let them get away on Market. Am heading for the rendezvous on Stockton. Out."

  O'Donnel sighed as Stone replaced the mike on its bracket beneath the dash. Stone gave the younger man an amused look.

  "Relax, Terry. This is the easy part."

  "No way," O'Donnel retorted. "Waiting is the hardest part of all. What if the whole thing was a ruse to draw Catlin and Lindsay off alone and then scrag them?"

  "Easier said than done, with Catlin."

  "He isn't armed."

  "He still had his hands when I last checked," Stone said dryly.

  "Not much range in them."

  "Catlin didn't argue the toss," pointed out Stone. "It's his ass. He's used to covering it."

  O'Donnel leaned back and settled in to wait. Just down the street was Wo Pong's All-Night Grocery – at least, O'Donnel assumed that was what the ideographs translated into. Catlin had told them the address and the name. The address on Stockton Street had been easy to decipher. The name they had to take on faith.

  On either side of the street there were bars bearing flashing scarlet ideographs, two movie houses showing old spaghetti Westerns and Brace Lee kung fu epics, several hotels that looked as though they asked no questions and told no tales and an "adult" bookstore for the unimaginative reader.