by V. R. Marks
She'd brought her hair over her shoulder in twist, wringing out the excess water. Left loose, the ends of her hair would brush her nipples.
"I brought clothes for you."
"Hmmm. I don't think I'll need them just yet."
His erection agreed with her.
"Carson?"
"Yeah?"
"In the shower or against the nearest wall?"
He'd promised himself it would be in his bed when all this was over and the bad guy was gone, but her smoldering gaze made it perfectly clear she wasn't about to let him make a gentleman's exit this time.
Convenient since he couldn't manage the basic decency to even look away.
He shrugged out of his jacket as he advanced. "Shower."
Her eyebrows lifted and her smile turned absolutely wicked. With a coy glance over her shoulder, she reached down to turn on the water.
Yanking off his boots and socks, he set the gun and holster aside, and was about to undo his fly when she crooked her finger. "Let me."
She pulled his t-shirt up and over his head, tossing it behind him. Her fingers, damp and warm, skimmed over his chest and down across his stomach.
He had to touch her, but was afraid to start for fear he'd rush it and miss something. Fighting for some measure of control, he lifted the chain from her skin.
"St. Michael medal."
"Patron saint of the military and police officers."
"The same."
Her talisman, her comfort. How many times had he seen her reach for it in times of stress or absently slide it along the chain when she was thinking through a problem? It was as much a part of her as her smile, her hair.
He turned it over, squinting at the small script under the Army seal. "Who's Neri?"
"Patron saint of the Special Forces." Her voice was rough and steam billowed behind her, turning her into a vision as she pressed a gentle kiss to the bruises on his neck.
He tipped her chin up and kissed her, a soft, tender meeting of lips that did nothing to slake his desire to feast on her. Cupping her cheek, he slid his mouth along her jaw, then up to trace the delicate shell of her ear.
She popped the buttons on his fly one by one. He caressed her breasts, teasing her nipples into hard peaks. They were both panting by the time she took him in her hand.
"Hurry."
The command snapped him out of his lusty stupor. Damned if he would. If he played this right, they'd have years to hurry, but only one first time. He kissed her, long and deep, straining toward her as she shoved his jeans down to the floor.
Breaking the kiss, he reached past her and twisted the water off once more.
"What the –"
The question finished on a squeak of surprise as he scooped her into his arms. She looped her arms around his neck and he thought life couldn't give him anything better than a wet, naked Eva.
Unless it was a wet, naked Eva in front of a roaring fire. He set her on her feet only long enough to snatch the quilt from the couch to cover the hardwood floor.
"Where were we?"
"The shower." Her eyes were wide, her smile just a little less confident.
He liked making her wonder. Tracing her full lower lip with his thumb, then his tongue, he applied himself to learning everything about her.
She shivered when his lips found that sensitive hollow at the base of her throat. Her fingers flexed and clutched on his shoulders, in his hair, when he paid homage to her breasts.
The crest of her hips were ticklish and she muttered a vow to get even. He looked forward to it.
Having her in his arms was a simultaneous test of his will and a pure, exhilarating joy. The fire crackled, but they created enough heat on their own.
Falling to his knees he kissed her thighs, slowly working his way to her sweet, hot center. Her fingers bit into his shoulders, and he held her steady when her knees threatened to buckle.
"Carson. Enough," she pleaded, her voice hoarse from passion. "Too much."
He shifted back, tugging her close until she sprawled on top of him. He smoothed her hair back from her face, tried to breathe. "You really want me to stop?"
"God, no." She nipped his chest, soothed it with a slow lick. "But you'd better have a condom nearby."
"I knew there was a reason I wanted to wait."
"Nooo." She dropped her head to his chest and her hair drifted over him.
He gripped her round bottom and rolled his hips, rubbing himself against her warm hip.
"Don't promise what you can't deliver."
"I wouldn't dare." He rolled her over and kissed her until she was writing beneath him and he was breathless with need. "Hold that thought."
Jumping to his feet, he returned to his sister's footlocker for the box of condoms he'd spotted in his search for clothes. Later he'd think about why Heather might have a need to stash condoms out here. Right now, he'd just take advantage of her intelligent planning.
He rushed back to the front room to find Eva stretched out on her side, gazing into the flames. The fire turned her skin golden as she slid that pendant back and forth.
If she'd changed her mind, he'd manage. Maybe. He eased down beside her, brushing kisses across her shoulder, down her back, running his hand over her supple curves.
"That was fast."
"We can thank my sister later. Maybe."
She laughed, that sexy sound washing over him. "You'll thank her."
She turned into his arms, rolling him onto his back, until she was straddling him. Taking a condom from the box, she covered him before taking him deep into her body in a move that stole his breath.
All he could do was hang on as she set the rhythm. She was a goddess in the firelight, rocking against him until the pleasure built to breaking and she arched with a sweet cry of release that carried them both over the edge.
* * *
Sex was one thing, Eva thought. What she and Carson had just accomplished deserved a whole new definition. When she could think coherently again, she might come up with words that were appropriate.
At the moment it was enough to bask, caught her between his hard, hot body and the crackling fire. Steam dry, indeed.
She laughed softly.
"What's so funny?"
"Not funny ha-ha. I think it's hysteria setting in. That was amazing."
He nuzzled her neck. "Next time we can hurry."
"I might just be over the hurry thing."
"We'll see."
"Is that a promise, deputy?" She hoped so. Her theory that acting on the attraction would make it go away had just been blasted to bits. Bakr might be a crazy bastard, but she couldn't be unhappy he'd driven them to this moment.
Except now, if Bakr hurt Carson, it would hurt her that much more. Her heart was engaged now, not just her hormones or her basic need to protect people from monsters like Bakr. She didn't know if this was love – wouldn't know how to cope if it was. But it was strange how feelings worked, how they morphed and changed the perspective, the purpose. She wondered if this is how it had been for Ross and Rick.
"Already back to business?" Carson tickled her hip bone again. "I must have missed a spot."
"You didn't miss anything. And I wasn't just thinking about business."
"Do I want to know?"
"Maybe." She kept her gaze on the fire. "Situations like this make people think differently."
"Sexual situations?"
"Well, that too, but I was thinking about the case."
"I knew it."
She poked him in the ribs. "Your idea of a leak. Maybe it's there, maybe it's what we want to see because we're tired of being cornered. Last month, working Allie's case, Ross suspected you of working for Allie's enemies at one point."
"How did he reach that conclusion?"
She felt his body go rigid, and not in the good way. "You can't take it personally. He would have suspected Mrs. Jackson if she'd said a questionable word." She chuckled. "Knowing him, he probably did."
"I get t
hat. Kind of. He and Allie were inseparable back in the day, whether they were in the same room together or not."
"Meaning?"
"It was just all over them." He sighed, rolled to his back. "They were friends and they were careful, since her daddy didn't approve. It was obvious to everyone else that they belonged together."
She'd seen it too, almost from the moment they'd picked up Allie's case. "I worried about him," she confessed.
"It worked out."
"It did." She stretched up, rubbing his nose with hers. "Allie broke down his walls."
"Hmm." He smoothed her hair behind her ears. "I think it was inevitable. He walled the memory of her in there with him when he left Haleswood."
"That's a weird way to put it." But she understood it. She'd have to build a wall around these special days with him when the time came for her to leave town.
* * *
Reaching Florence, Bakr pulled over and checked his phone for messages, eager for word of a successful attack. He'd already drafted another text for the queen about her useless, sacrificial pawns. His advantage was growing.
But the new email notice was from another source. The message consisted of nothing more than a question mark and a photo attachment.
He scrolled down for the thumbnail image and experienced his first moment of doubt since he'd put his plan in motion.
That could not be his brother. Alive? No. It was a clever trick.
His finger shook as he tapped the screen, enlarging the image. Determined denial stood no chance against reality. His contact would not take this risk unless it was real.
That was Abraham, sitting in an FBI office alive and likely cooperating. Bakr recognized the name plate on the desk and swore again at the injustice of the world.
"How?" he screamed at the phone. "When?"
He had laid all the groundwork. Executed his plans perfectly. He'd seen the aftermath of the car accident he'd arranged for a substantial fee. Two mangled bodies had been identified as Abraham and his secretary. Only the driver had survived.
Or so they'd planned.
Enraged, Bakr barely managed to put a leash on his temper. He wanted – needed – to throw something. The phone wouldn't be enough. Tossing his brother into the foundation of a new construction project… there was an image he found soothing.
Wouldn't it be a delightful secret to build the Army's shiny new building on his brother's lousy, whistle-blowing carcass?
Betrayal stung and he embraced the pain, the shock.
"How?" he snarled again.
With a little time, he would use this, turn this around and reclaim the advantage. Abraham might have run to the American authorities, but it was too little too late for him to change the course Bakr had set in motion. If they wanted to accelerate the game, to rush forward to their inevitable demise, who was he to quibble?
Thinking through the options, he wrote his reply. Deliver him to the prepared location. He would rectify this error personally. Then his brother would taste the bitterness and pain he'd endured so quietly for all these years.
* * *
Carson could have stayed with her in front of the fire for the rest of his life if his stomach hadn't started grumbling. He might even have ignored that for a while longer if hers hadn't joined the chorus.
Still, food was delayed by a shower that quickly digressed into another sexual fantasy turned real. It was gratifying and more than a little surprising that a woman like Eva, who could have her choice of men, was as eager to be with him as he was to be with her.
It had been act of will to leave her to finish the shower so he could work up some dinner. They needed to talk about what she'd seen on that flash drive, about how to put a muzzle on Bakr, and – hopefully – what was left for them after that. As he assembled a stew from the stock in the pantry, part of him wished they could stay out here until someone else caught the Morcos bastard.
Except his Eva wouldn't be satisfied with sitting this one out. Bakr had made it personal. He shook his head, it was too early to think of her as his. Definitely too early to tell her he thought of her that way.
He turned, smiling, as she padded into the kitchen wearing his sister's sweats. "Hey." He brushed a kiss on her cheek when she joined him at the stove.
"Hey." She ran a hand over his butt. "I've got my clothes airing out on the porch. How can I help?"
"I've started a stew here. Do you want dumplings?"
"Sure."
"Need me to walk you through it?"
She shot him a dark look. "Only if you want me to beat you with a skillet," she said, opening the pantry.
"It was just an offer. You might have to pull some dry goods out of the freezer," he added.
"No. Everything looks to be right here."
"Whoever was out here last –" He paused when a vivid, unwelcome picture of his sister playing house with some faceless jerk filled his head. "She's not even dating anyone."
"Carson?"
"Sorry. It's nothing. We have a checklist for closing this place up and someone just didn't follow through."
"Or is out here often enough they don't see the need to freeze the flour."
"Or that."
"How is Heather doing?"
"Can we save that for another day?" He had such a grip on the wooden spoon it was a wonder it didn't snap. "Or do you know something I should know?"
"Of course not." Chuckling she came up and gave him a kiss. "No one in Haleswood confides in me. You're a good big brother," she said, patting his cheek. "And having a brother, I had to bait the bear."
She turned back to mixing the dumplings and he marveled that the tension over Heather just lifted from his shoulders. Suddenly he understood the 'kiss it and make it better' phrase. Did she know she had that power over him? In his mind that ability to comfort and share the burdens was a key ingredient in the lasting relationships of his parents and grandparents.
Whoa. Jumping the gun, he thought. Eva wasn't someone who'd be rushed into anything much less a relationship with a small town deputy. Just because he'd had her on his brain for weeks, didn't mean she was anywhere close to the same feelings.
"When this is over, we should have a real date." He wanted to bang his head into a wall. He hadn't meant to voice his thoughts. Could he have sounded more clingy? Keeping his eyes on the stew, he waited for her to say something.
Anything.
"Dumplings are ready to go."
"Great thanks." She was going to ignore the date comment. Good. He dropped dumplings on top of the bubbling stew. "This'll just be another few minutes."
"Want a beer?"
"Sure."
"Well?" She popped the tops off both bottles and handed him one.
"Well what?"
"You know I won't say yes to a date unless I know your plans."
He couldn't stop the grin spreading across his face. "Well, the shooting range was my ace in the hole. A dinner and movie thing sounds a little tame at this point."
"Hmm." She rolled the bottle between her palms, pouting a little. "That depends on the movie."
She finished the statement with a slow wink and he heard his heart fall with a thud at her feet.
No, he wasn't about to let her slip through his fingers. He couldn't believe that something this right wouldn't have a way of working itself out.
If she felt the same about him.
But, like thoughts of his sister's antics, it was better to table that for another time.
He scooped stew and dumplings into two bowls and carried them to the table she'd set with napkins and spoons. "Bon appetit!"
"Buon appetito!" she replied in Italian.
Eva sat across from him and wondered at her good luck. Capable in bed and in the kitchen. Tasting her first bite of the stew, she knew capable was a terrible understatement on both counts.
He had her feeling things she didn't want to feel. Great sex was no reason to go crazy here, she coached. Great food might be.
Stop it.
"Something wrong? You're scowling."
Idiot. She used the heel of her hand like an eraser on the lines her mother claimed would be a permanent fixture one day. "Food is delicious. I was just thinking."
"About?"
You. "That flash drive."
"Hmm." He sipped his beer, studying her in that way he had. "You looked pretty upset when you came out of the office."
"The Morcos brothers aren't humanitarians. Or they weren't until Abe's son was killed. They made plenty of shady deals with various governments to get the contracts they wanted."
"So Abe's turned over a new leaf to make up for previous bad deeds?"
"That's the thing. Abe isn't all bad. He had his causes, and those changed after he lost his son, but based on who's involved and the introductory file on that drive, someone in the Morcos family was working with the Americans."
"On what?" He waved that off instantly. "I don't want to know. I want to know how it affects you now."
"Abe's son stumbled onto Bakr's plans to take over the company. I'm not sure how he did it, but he hijacked the transactions and put the evidence in a sort of time capsule. If the file isn't accessed by a specific date, the information gets sent out."
"Smart."
"Oh, yeah. It explains why Bakr's moved now. Bakr must have been trying to unlock these files for the past two years."
"Abe's son gave him the files?"
"Diabolical really." She admired the kid's skills. "Bakr can see the money, can see the evidence to be used against him, but without the code phrase, he can't do anything to stop it."
"And he thinks you know the phrase."
She nodded.
"What's the timeline?"
"Midnight on December 31st."
"So we have a little over a week. Christmas Eve is the day after tomorrow."
"Theoretically." She pushed the stew away, reached for her beer, and thought better of that too. "He knows time is running out and he's toying with me. Shooting Bart, kidnapping Matheson, showing up in my mom's neighborhood, going after us at the range."
"Sending you text messages."
"Yeah," she nodded. "Makes me glad I left my phone behind. Annoying bastard."
"Well, we have one advantage."
"We do." She smiled at him. "He couldn't have planned on your resourcefulness."
