by Penny McCall
There’d been a focus this time, though, the feeling he’d been striving for the destination rather than savoring the journey. As if he was still in danger mode. She liked danger mode, but she liked it when he was laid-back, too. She couldn’t say that to him, though.
He tipped her chin up, and even in the meager light from the window she could tell he knew what was on her mind. It was a little scary, but also liberating, knowing he understood her so completely that she didn’t have to explain herself.
And then he kissed her, gently, thoroughly. It was incredible and familiar, and while she was a woman who appreciated the tried and true, just now she was into variety. She wanted him every way she could have him. She didn’t know how long Conn would be in her life, and she refused to waste a moment.
She smiled against his mouth, shifting until she was straddling him. Conn wasn’t going to be taken, though. He came up to his knees, his hands around her waist as he moved behind her, pulling her back so she was sitting on his thighs. His hands were on her breasts, his mouth hot at the nape of her neck. She slipped her hand down, curling her fingers around him, hard and thick between her legs, and he groaned. She felt his hands tremble, the muscles of his thighs quivering just at her touch, making her feel strong and humble at the same time. And then he slipped inside her and began to move, surging into her, his hands sure at her waist as she eased forward to brace herself, to take him deeper, until he touched something that made her go blind and deaf, that stole her breath and sent her soaring.
She cried out as he came into her over and over, harder and faster with each thrust. He curled over her and around her, as his hand slipped down between her legs and stroked over the center of her. He drove himself deep one last time, his groan a rumble of joy and triumph as he went over, and her body tightened around him as she flew high, floating back down to find herself curled in his arms, her back to his front. Her head was pillowed on his shoulder, one of his arms wrapped around her waist, the fingertips of his other hand making lazy circles on her belly.
He sighed, his breath warm at her temple, his arms tightening as if to pull her closer, and when he couldn’t, he slipped one leg over hers instead and made a sound of contentment deep in his throat, an “mmmmmm,” that told her he was feeling everything she was, and it shattered the walls around her heart.
chapter 20
AFGHANISTAN, FIRST WAVE BEFORE THE TALIBAN had been chased into the mountains, when the fighting had been town by town, and sometimes street by street. Conn was there again, in that village with the crumbling huts and the artillery and machine-gun fire, and the kid with the wide, terrified eyes. Running out of a shack filled with explosives. He hadn’t known that at first. He still didn’t know if the kid had been a suicide bomber or an innocent dupe, but Conn was right back there, breaking the first rule of any mission, reacting without thinking. He’d dropped the knife he’d been about to throw, shouted at his nearest team member and dove for the kid. He didn’t get there in time.
He woke up, not with a jerk like he had before, and definitely not hard enough to wake Rae, who was still wrapped in his arms. Or maybe she was exhausted, but even remembering why wasn’t enough to block out the rest of the flashback. His warning had saved his unit, given them time to take cover. He’d been the only one wounded. The scars along his side and back that Rae had noticed were from shrapnel, not bullets. The real damage had yet to heal.
He nuzzled his face into Rae’s neck, and she sighed softly, settling herself more firmly against him. And the memories faded.
What would it be like, he wondered, to get in the car tomorrow and keep driving south, past Holly Grove, across the Michigan border, just the two of them, until they landed on some beach with blue water stretching to the horizon. What would it be like to throw Rae’s cell phone out the car window, forget Mike Kovaleski, the FBI, and his obligation to arrest her parents for violating federal law? To forget that when he did Rae would hate him.
It was a nice fantasy, but he dealt in reality. If he took off the Bureau would just send another agent, and the Blisses would be arrested anyway. And Rae wasn’t a runner. Even if he could convince her to go with him, she’d ask . . . no, she’d demand an explanation, and telling her the truth wasn’t good for her life expectancy. As justifications went, it was a hell of a good one, being that it was true.
He eased his arm from beneath Rae’s head and slipped out of bed, not looking back once he’d assured himself she was fast asleep. Her purse was on the nightstand. He fished her phone out, cat-footed it into the bathroom, and dialed his handler. It was barely seven A.M., but Mike would pick up. Mike always picked up.
“This better be good,” he said, sounding like his normal, gruff self.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” Conn asked, keeping his voice low.
“Not when the safety of the free world is in my hands.”
“If that’s true we’re all doomed.”
“Only when my agents get their brains scrambled—which I assume is no longer the case.”
“Sunnyside up again,” Conn said tersely.
“The op?”
“I’m on my way back to the faire. We were on Mackinac Island, a couple hundred miles away, when my memory came back. That was yesterday. This is the first chance I’ve had to check in.” And he was justifying it because he felt like shit for going behind Rae’s back, even knowing he did it for her sake.
“Mackinac Island,” Mike said. “Great Lakes, big hotel, no cars.”
“That’s the place.”
“Who’s we? Still with the Blissfield woman?”
“Yeah.”
“Spill it.”
“She’s the daughter of Annie and Nelson Bliss. They pawned me off on her for my own safety.”
“And now she’s in trouble.”
“Now she’s my responsibility. But I don’t think the bad guys know she’s related to the Blisses. She was born on the road, and when she went to college she applied for a birth certificate using the different last name.”
“I checked her out,” Mike said. “There’s no connection between her and the parents, but I bet the mastermind of the counterfeiting ring could find her if he asked the right questions.”
“The Blisses and their friends are damned secretive,” Conn said, “suspicious of everyone and very protective of one another. They have no respect for authority, and that includes federal, state, and local. Hell, that includes dog catchers and librarians.”
“People like that give me the runs,” Mike said. “What else?”
“The bad guys showed up while we were on the island, in a carriage, headed to the ferry docks. They stole a couple of horses and came after us.”
Mike grunted out his opinion of that. “Sounds like a real Wild West fiasco.”
“Yeah, all they were missing were the black hats. It was touch and go for a couple of minutes.”
“And yet here you are talking to me.”
“There’s a small airport on the island. I, uh, commandeered a plane.”
“And I’m all that stands between you and a jail cell.”
“Rae, too,” Conn said. “Her prints are in the system in Troy, remember? The last thing I need is for local boys in blue to get in the middle of this. Or the state cops.”
“I’ll clean it up,” Mike said. “What else?”
“Run the name Harry Mosconi.”
Conn heard buttons clicking then Mike said, “First dive, not much. Regular guy, wife and two kids, one in college, one in high school. Worked at an auto plant until sixteen months ago when he got laid off after eighteen years. Had a DUI eight months ago.”
“No connections to organized crime?”
“There’re Mosconis peppered throughout known mob lists, but no Harry in Detroit. No direct connection ’tween him and any of the others. But I’ll keep looking. And, Larkin?”
“Yeah.”
“Welcome back, man.”
“Yeah,” Conn said again, because it was the easy comeba
ck. “Can you—”
“Conn?” Rae called. “Who are you talking to?”
“Shit. I’ll reach out when I can,” he said to Mike, then he disconnected and deleted all record of the call from the cell phone.
“Everything all right?” Rae asked him when he came out of the bathroom. “I thought I heard you talking in there.”
“Everything is fine.” Except her phone was still in his hand instead of her purse. And then it went off, singing about money. He held it up, thinking fast. “This thing was making noise. I tried to answer it without waking you.”
She jumped out of bed and snatched it out of his hand, fumbling it in her haste. The ring tone told her it was work, the readout gave her the rest of the bad news. “Mr. Putnam, one of my bosses.” But she didn’t answer it, pacing, the phone clutched in her fist, until it went silent. She waited a couple minutes before she opened it and began pushing buttons—accessing her messages—not happy ones, Conn figured when she got that pinched look around her mouth and eyes.
She closed the phone carefully, and cleared her throat. “There’s no record of the call you took.”
Conn came and looked over her shoulder. “I pushed that button,” he said, “and that one.”
“You must have deleted it by accident. Do you remember who it was from?”
“No.”
She did her deep breathing routine. “It had to be Putnam. A couple of my clients are anxious to get their quarterly statements.”
Conn felt a moment of guilt, both for lying to her and for causing her trouble at work. “I thought they agreed you could work at home for the week.”
“They did, but this isn’t exactly home, and the only numbers I’ve looked at have been on credit card receipts. Which I won’t be able to pay if I lose my job.”
“What can I do?”
“That’s a pretty good start,” Rae said, relaxing back against him, at which point Conn noticed he’d begun to rub her shoulders without even realizing he was doing it.
She looked up at him. “It’s still early. Let’s go back to bed.”
Conn closed his eyes and dug deep. He should at least start to establish some distance, get his head back in the mission and leave his body out of this, unless it was to put that body between hers and danger.
But he leaned over to kiss her, putting the mission away one last time, and losing himself in her.
THEY LEFT FRANKENMUTH AFTER BREAKFAST AND went straight to Grosse Pointe to pick up her files. She hadn’t argued with Conn when he pointed out that her house wasn’t safe if Harry and company got out of jail. He’d conceded that she wouldn’t be content to stay in hiding if it meant putting her job in further jeopardy. He even helped her pack up her work papers, although she had to take over after he fumbled a stack of files. She shooed him away, gathering everything off the floor and sorting it into the jacket again, then packed some clean clothing for herself, since Conn was already carrying around just about everything he owned.
By the time she got outside he was checking over her Jaguar, which the dealership had dropped off in her driveway. Every door was open, so was the trunk, and Conn was on his knees on the driver’s side, the upper half of his body inside the car. He’d piled an assortment of items on the driveway next to the vehicle, things they’d left in the Hummer, Rae noticed on closer inspection.
“What are you doing?”
Conn pulled his head out, stared up at her for a second, then shrugged. “I’ve never seen one of these before.”
“And the seats are fascinating?”
“Everything is fascinating.”
Rae shook her head and dumped the box of files and her overnight bag into the trunk. By the time she climbed into the driver’s seat and adjusted it to her liking, Conn had put all the stuff from the driveway into the trunk and hopped into the passenger seat.
They left the Cadillac at her house, so Harry and his friends wouldn’t bother Mr. Pennworthy. Rae steered the Jaguar into Holly Grove a little before noon, driving up the long, rutted dirt road until they came to a barrier made of wooden sawhorses and a lackadaisical teenager wearing a Robin Hood hat with a red feather, a Dracula cape, and a bored expression. He perked up slightly when he spotted Conn.
“Cool wheels, dude,” he said when he’d ambled around to Conn’s window. “Where you been—oh. Dude, trading up,” he finished with a wide smile as his eyes landed on Rae. “Nice.”
Conn grinned over at her. “Not all the time.”
“Trading up?” Rae said.
“It’s a long story.”
“There was a blonde a few weeks back,” the kid said.
“Had a laugh like a hyena, but she was almost as pretty as you.”
Conn gave Rae a once-over, a teasing glint in his eyes. “It’s a toss-up. I like the red hair better.”
Rae rolled her eyes, but she was trying not to smile. “If you two are done objectifying me . . .” She let the car inch forward.
“I’m going, I’m going . . .” the teenager said, but he stuck around long enough to say to Conn, “Man, she’s impatient.”
“This kid could give a snail lessons,” she said, watching him wander back to the sawhorses.
He picked up the end of one where the two met in the center of the road and swung it out of the way before he shuffled back to the other and did the same. Then he waved them through with a bow and a flourish. Rae didn’t miss the sarcasm, but she had other things on her mind.
“Nervous?” Conn asked her.
She realized she had a death grip on the steering wheel and forced her fingers to unlock.
“Harry won’t expect us to come back here,” Conn said, “if he’s even out of jail.”
Rae blew out a breath. “I’m sure you’re right.” But she didn’t feel any better, because Harry wasn’t the only menace she was facing. Annie Bliss could take on Harry and win every time, no gun necessary.
They pulled up in front of the Airstream, and a beat later the door crashed open, hard enough to bang against the trailer. Her parents came out, her dad pulling open Rae’s door almost before she had time to shut off the engine, both of them hugging her at the same time.
“What’s all this?” Rae said. “I mean, I missed you guys, too, but it’s only been a few days.”
“You didn’t call.” Annie shot Conn a look that promised something dire, then hugged Rae again.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Your mother wanted to,” Nelson said, putting his arm around his wife’s shoulders and patting her, “but we didn’t because we knew you were fine.”
Annie didn’t look like she knew it, but she smiled anyway. “We were just wondering how it was going, not that we thought you wouldn’t look out for Conn.”
“It wasn’t all me.” She glanced over at Conn.
“We make a pretty good team,” he said.
Annie smiled brightly. Rae wasn’t buying it. She knew that smile: It was her mother’s something’s not right but putting a brave face on it smile. She also knew there was no point calling Annie on it.
“Have you eaten?”
“In Frankenmuth,” Rae said, “this morning.”
“Frankenmuth? The Christmas town?”
“It’s been an interesting few days.”
“We can’t wait to hear about it,” Annie said.
And she wouldn’t leave them alone until she did, Rae knew.
They all trooped into the Airstream. Rae took a deep breath, prepared to give them the high points, but Conn butted in, telling them a carefully edited version of the story. He left out the sex, which Rae had intended to do as well. But he left out the guns, too.
“I’m just glad you’re back,” Annie said when he’d finished.
Conn nodded, straightening away from the door where he’d been leaning and putting his hand on the knob instead. “I’ll leave you to your family time.”
Rae followed him out the door. “That was quite the sanitized version of events.”
&nb
sp; “There was no need to alarm your parents. They would only feel guilty for putting you in that position.”
She nodded. “So . . . where are you going?”
“My tent. You should stay here tonight.”
“Why—”
“It’s best,” Conn said. “Respectful.”
“And old fashioned—What am I saying? You think you’re from the sixteenth century. But it didn’t bother you last night.”
“I should not have taken advantage.”
“You weren’t the only one taking advantage,” Rae reminded him.
She’d been teasing, trying to put them back on easy footing. But he wasn’t looking at her. There was a distance in his manner that stung, but she had her pride. If he didn’t want her around, she’d oblige him. “I’ll get out of your hair, then.”
“Rae.”
She stopped, but she didn’t turn back.
“Saturday. You should stay with me in the booth.” That got her attention. “Are you serious? Harry and his friends will show up sooner or later.”
He shrugged. “I need to work—”
“So do I. There are two more messages on my phone from Mr. Putnam. A couple of my clients are raising hell, and he can’t do anything because I have their files. If I don’t have something to show them soon, I’ll be out of a job.”
“If Harry and his friends get their hands on you, letting your clients down will be the least of your worries,” Conn said. “You need to stay with me until we know where they are and what they plan to do next.”
But they wouldn’t be sleeping together, that much was clear from the chill in his voice. Not that she was surprised. They’d enjoyed each other for a time, but now that time had come to an end. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been expecting it, and she shouldn’t be taking it personally. But she was. It hurt like hell.
And she wasn’t about to let him know that.
“Fine,” she said, because he made sense, at least about Harry and Joe and Kemp. And because she’d make her own decisions.
“You’ll stay close?”
She pointed to the picnic table in front of her parents’ trailer. “I’ll be right there, working, for the rest of the day. I can e-mail the completed statements to my assistant and she can get them to the clients.”
