“Screw that. Here’s the truth. I lost you once.” He pointed at her, then back at him. “I like this. I like us. And I liked last night. A lot. You’re more than a fun fuck, and I don’t want to lose you again, so there you go, sweet girl. Maybe I’m all lost in nostalgic malarkey, but not only do I want you in bed, I want you out of bed. Which, as you’ve been clued in to, isn’t my MO. So shit’s different with you. You can lie and say you don’t feel it too. That’s cool, but know that I know.”
He knows? He knows nothing. He had no clue about the confused ramblings bouncing in her brain, no clue that she had to double check his reaction to make sure she didn’t cry out the words, “I love you.”
Over the elevator door, the numbers counted their downward drag toward the ground floor. Why hadn’t they bottomed out yet? She needed out of the elevator, but it barely slid from floor to floor. At this pace, they wouldn’t hit G until tomorrow.
Tomorrow would be too late.
Prolonged exposure to Cash caused blips of lust-soaked anxiety. Her heartbeat picked up its tempo—bump, bump, bump—and she wanted to climb the walls.
Since when was she claustrophobic?
Oh, who was she kidding?
Cash stretched high overhead. Just another day, making women swoon. That damn shirt hugged his muscles, and her mouth went dry. She tried to swallow around the knot in her throat. Tried to ignore the knots re-tying in her stomach. Even his belt had a look-at-me quality, wrapped around his toned waist. Flashes of his rippled stomach burned through her memory. Whoa, God. This elevator was teeny-tiny. He lorded over it in his corner, watching her watch him, and she needed the emergency escape hatch.
A slow smile flickered across his face. “Nothing to say, sweet girl?”
She shook her head. Nothing to say. Nothing to do except hide in her corner. Maybe dig in her purse a little more or check her phone or… Cash stepped to her. One step. Two steps. She looked at the ceiling, then at the elevator display. Button after button, unlit. Nineteen more floors to go, and Nicola couldn’t move, frozen and frying in his gaze.
He had her. Sliding a finger down the curve of her neck, his finger flicked the purse strap, and with that grazing touch, it dropped.
Loud thud. Intense moment. Pounding want.
Nic’s tank-top-clad back pressed against the cold wall. Her bare shoulders were aware of the barrier. A heat ignited, and anticipation tingled from the perk of her breasts to the tips of her fingers.
Inches.
He was inches away and closing the distance. Cash palmed the elevator wall on both sides of her head. “I’m throwing lines about in bed, out of bed, and you’re standing, stoic like this is a cold shoulder challenge, and you want to win a trip to the freakin’ Arctic Circle.” He kissed behind her ear. Whimpers escaped her lips, then he whispered again. “After last night, I thought it was game on between us.”
Close enough for him to feel the rise and fall of her chest, close enough for her to smell the mint he’d long-since devoured, Cash nudged at the wall of buttons. Click. The lights dimmed. The elevator stopped between floors.
No alarms.
No sirens.
Just them, stuck in an elevator with the emergency lights on, and now she really couldn’t breathe.
“There are cameras in here. I’m sure there are cameras.” The words came out breathy and wispy and screaming, “Please kiss me again.”
“What is it you think I’m going to do?” He crushed against her. His smooth cheek grazed hers, and his lips brushed against her ear. “What is it that you want me to do?”
Her libido did jumping jacks and her mind, somersaults. All she could see was the deep blue of his eyes. His weight pressed her in place. His palms cupped her face, igniting a fire wherever he touched. Never had a torturing burn felt so damn right.
“I want…”
Cash dipped his head. Soft hair teased over her cheek, and soft kisses turned her stomach. It was a cacophony of cravings. Heat pooled inside her. The very core of her body moaned for his contact.
He repeated what she’d started. “You want…”
“You.”
She felt his smile on her skin. His full lips thinned into a grin, and his tongue sliced across the side of her collar bone, sweeping the strength out of her legs. Nicola hooked her thumbs into his belt loops. One of her legs snaked up his thigh. Trying to breathe was a wasted effort, and—
Ring. Rrr-ring. Ring.
What was it with the interruptions?
Cash pulled back to stare at the elevator’s phone box, slid his hands down her body, letting one rest on her hip, and opened a small door with the other, grabbing the phone. “Hello.” Amused, he dragged the syllables before he made it to a long oh. A few uh-huhs later, he winked at her, flicked the elevator RUN button back to ON, and said into the handset, “Must have bumped into it. Sorry.”
With the elevator phone back in its box and their ride creeping toward the ground level, they locked in a gaze. Nothing saying. Nothing doing. Just waiting.
The doors opened, and a pudgy security guard waited for them to exit, hands on hips. “You two okay?”
Yup, definitely cameras in the elevator. Just like the CIA: someone’s always watching.
Cash took her hand in his. “Couldn’t be better.”
***
This may have been a mistake. As mistakes go, it may have been a jumping-off-a-bridge bad idea. The GUNS sign was dead ahead on the right, and Cash braked, turning off the road and into a parking lot with a rusted, charging bison mascot snarling at every truck that dared cross into Sugar’s parking lot. The thing had to be the size of an army tank.
“We’re here.” And so is she. Sugar’s '69 Mustang Boss 429, the same color as the lipstick she wore, sat in her parking spot. The twist in his gut and a flash glance at Nic said this moment was leaning toward colossal catastrophe.
No time to backpedal. Jumping out of his truck, Cash saw the security camera track him. Sugar knew they were there. Nic got out and slammed her door. At least she was down for their Q and A session. A second later, his girl was on his six, and they walked toward the gated-up, locked-down door.
His girl.
She was definitely his girl walking into Sugar’s lair. He’d iron out the semantics later.
Moving from the focus of one security camera to the next, he waved hello at the lens over the door, and a series of locks disengaged mechanically after someone approved their entry.
They walked into the waiting area lined with wall-mounted guns and knives. Glass cases housed a few more beauties.
Sugar’s heels clacked down the hall before they could see her. It was Sugar. Only she could make footsteps sound like the sway of her hips. Her perfume drifted in before she did, and her entrance was nothing short of a sultry explosion.
“Cash, baby.” She ignored Nicola, lasering onto him with lethal accuracy, and wrapped an arm around his back to kiss him hello. “I knew you’d be back soon.”
This was about what he’d pictured. To Nic’s credit, her boot didn’t bounce-bounce-bounce. This was work-Nic. The professional Nicola. Cool and calculating. Nic didn’t flinch at whatever else Sugar babbled about. Probably several variations of, “let’s get into bed. Or drop to the floor.”
Sugar turned to Nicola and shook her head, faux confused. “And what was your name again? Sarah? Julie?”
“It’s Nicola,” Nic said with a touch of bring-it-bitch. “I understand if it’s hard to remember names that aren’t tangible.”
Annnd, the ladies were off and running.
This was everything Rocco probably dreamed of watching in real time. If the ladies were still standing at the end of this visit, he’d give Roc a serious recap.
He stepped a boot between them. “Can we go to your office, Sugar? We have—”
“Baby, you’re the king of the castle for all I’m concerned. Lead the way.”
Cash fought the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he studied the guns lining the walls. S
ugar could build the hell out of a specialty request. The display paid homage to that talent.
If he could focus the ladies on guns and ammo, this convo could stay on the up and up. “Why don’t you lead the way?”
“Not sure that I want Julie, eh, Sally, whoever, running around back there though.” She turned to Nicola. “I can have someone bring you a chair, and we’ll make you comfy right here.”
Cash gave a chuckle, impressed that Nic appeared unfazed, and said, “Not gonna happen like that. The three of us have business.”
“I don’t trust her,” Sugar replied.
No bounce-bounce-bounce shoe taps, but he saw it in Nic’s face. The charge had been set. No telling when she would strike. He needed to diffuse this blowup and get down to the warlord arms dealer business.
One bounce. He heard Nic’s shoe bounce once. Then a bounce, bounce.
“Sug—”
Nic started in. “You’re selling illegal ammo, and you don’t trust me? Screw this, Cash. I’m calling ATF. They can deal with her.” She rifled through the black hole bag. The cell would eventually be found, and Nic didn’t look like this was a bluff.
Sugar looked ready to pounce. “Excuse me? What the—”
“Ladies, backroom. Now. Nic, put your cell away.”
Without a word, Sugar turned and stormed down the hall. Nic gave a smirk and shrug, following after her. Their two sets of feminine ass-kickin’ boots were readying to loft him a good one where the sun didn’t shine if he didn’t rein this situation in on the quick.
Their threesome stopped in Sugar’s office. He’d only been in there a couple of times and hadn’t been intent on checking out the décor. Now, his objective was to keep them civil and productive.
He looked at the bright fuchsia wall and over-the-top furniture. Sugar’s office was the Home Depot version of her, something he should have noticed before. Bet lots of interesting things go down in this room.
“Speak,” Sugar ordered Nicola. “Fast.”
Nic smiled as if ice ripped through her veins. “Where’d Jared’s ammo come from?”
“None of your nosey-girl business.”
“You know who Antilla Smooth is?”
Sugar cocked an eyebrow and looked at Cash. He was content to let them work through this. For now.
Sugar pivoted a gaze back to his girl. “BFF to Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, big fan of the Hussein brothers. What does that have to do with me?”
“Ever move his product?” Nic asked.
“Never seen his product. Never been overseas to do business. Cash?” Sugar turned to him, a flash of concern coloring her glance. “What does this have to do with me?”
He zipped his lips. Not his interrogation.
She turned back to Nic. “I run a legit shop. I buy, sell, and trade. I design and build. I don’t play with third- or first-world arms dealers. No one in Europe, the Middle East, or South America. I don’t use Swiss bank accounts. Cold, hard good ole US of A cash exchanges. Fess up, Garrison girl. What’s up with ATF threats and name dropping the likes of the Bin Laden clan?”
“The ammo you sold Titan is Smooth’s.”
“Not a chance.”
“Ever seen anything of Antilla Smooth’s?”
“Why would I?”
“He marks his product with—”
“Oh, fuck.” For a split second, shock shut Sugar silent. “With an A and an S.” Pure surprise dripped off Sugar’s painted-on face. The woman didn’t know. Nic had to see that too. Sugar was as caught off guard as he’d been when she rolled heels first into Winters’s living room.
“Who’d you buy it from?” Nic followed up on that revelation.
“A legit source.” Sugar started to straighten a pile of papers that were already squared off.
“You’re not naming names?”
“I’m not giving up my seller to some—”
“Sugar.” Cash nailed her with a watch-your-ass look.
She pursed painted lips and started again. “I’d rather keep my rifle rolodex to myself, thank you.”
Nic pushed her. “Your guy has connections you don’t need.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Smooth arrived in the U.S. three months ago. We’ve been mapping out his network.”
“I’m not part of his network.”
“Didn’t say you were, but I’d like to know who you know. We didn’t think he’d sell to legit sources.” Nic used air quotes around legit. Wasn’t that nice of her? “And we didn’t think it’d infiltrate this far south or this fast to consumers.”
“And who is we?”
Nicola paused. There’s no way she’d say CIA. “Titan.”
He didn’t expect that either. According to the look on Sugar’s face, neither did she. Nic wasn’t exactly Titan. She was contract help. But better that lie than no response. They should have worked out a little back story before they went in, questions ready to fire.
Sugar tapped pink nails on her desk, quick taps, one right after the other. “Cash, you two go out back. Take your pick from my private gun stash. I have a couple calls to make.”
“All right. Let’s give her a minute. Come on, Nic.”
Nicola dropped the huge black hole bag. Everything spilled out. Why’d the woman need all that stuff?
“Sorry. Sorry.” She scooped it without looking, shoving it all back in from where it came. “Sorry.”
He didn’t take Nic for the bumbling type, especially after the ladies had gone back and forth like that. A lip gloss-lipstick thing rolled under Sugar’s desk. “Oh, you—”
“I’m ready.”
“But—”
“Jesus, Cash. I got all my stuff. Let’s go.”
Oh no, she didn’t. The glimmer in her eye said oh yes, she did. Titan had their toys. The CIA had theirs. Nicola had a listening device that looked like a tube of fancy-dancy lip gloss.
Listening devices weren’t necessarily legal. Then again, when did he, Titan, or the CIA play by the national security rule book?
His gut re-twisted. This was Sugar though. He trusted her. Right?
Nic led the way out, and they shuffled to the outdoor course after grabbing a couple long rifles from Sugar’s stash-o-guns. He waved to a couple folks he knew and took every opportunity to catch Nic’s eye. She wasn’t having it, and he wasn’t talking about it. Who knew who else was listening?
They headed to the outdoor course. Manmade hills, swaying tall grass, and creative-assed obstacles that Cash knew exploded in colored smoke were dead ahead. Flags showed a mild, five mile per hour breeze. The sun had started to sink, but they had hours more of summer daylight.
He took position, loaded up a .45 that was eons away from as much fun as Miss Betty and fired. Blue smoke burst and billowed.
“Nice shot,” Nic said.
“Easy shot.” Her approval was completely unneeded, yet it tugged on his cheeks. Maybe now he could push her on the lipstick move. “Nice move.”
She squinted. “I haven’t gone to the line yet, crazy.”
“Yet you’ve already crossed it.”
Nic mouthed a dramatic oh. “’Cause she’s your friend?”
“Because I said she could be trusted.”
“I don’t trust anyone. Hazard of the job. I tried earlier today with you, and it bit me on the ass. I’m playing by my rules now.”
He ignored the jab and chambered another round. Aim. Shoot. Blue smoke.
He emptied the spent round and turned to her. “We need to do something normal.”
“Fine—”
“I gotta go home. I owe my mom a visit. Since you’re alive, you should see your folks.”
“I called them. Gave them the whole spiel, told them what Witness Protection told me to pass along since I’m out and about and want to keep mobster crosshairs off ‘em.”
“You don’t want to go home?” he asked.
She pulled down her sunglasses, stepped to the line, and fired off her weapon. Different target hit
. Green smoke. She didn’t turn around, just stayed, staring down range.
“Nic?” He took a step forward and spoke lower. “Nicola?”
Nicola cleared her weapon and turned. “Look, I can’t handle seeing their faces. Okay? I talked to them. They know it all. They had the same reactions you and Roman did. I’m devil daughter. I get it. I don’t need to see it.”
“Don’t you miss—”
“Of course I do. I’ve missed them every day. Just like I missed you and Roman.”
She turned back toward the last of the wafting colored smoke. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Let’s go see them.”
“I can’t.”
“Yeah—”
Spinning fast, she stabbed him with a glare. “I’m not strong enough. You happy? Is that what you want to hear?”
“I don’t believe you.”
Nicola glared at him. “They deserve better than me.”
“I know your folks—”
“No you—”
“How about this? I’m going to go see them. You’re welcome to join me. Then we’ll go do something boring and normal, like catch a movie or something. You need to chill, and I’m gonna help.”
“I don’t know.” She looked terrified.
“We’ll go after this. You can sit in the truck while I do the parental drive-bys if you want to hide. Then we’ll go make s’mores or something. Something nice and normal and boring.” They both heard Sugar’s heels before she announced herself. Cash smiled. “Or you can always stay here with Sugar.”
Sugar held Nic’s lip gloss listening piece high overhead. She looked… not pissed. What the deuce?
“All right, Nicole Whatever-Your-Name-Is.” Almost her name. Sugar was in the same ballpark as Nicola. It was progress. Sugar continued, “Cute. Very funny. I respect the effort. Cash, scram. She and I have business.”
Maybe not progress.
Nicola looked at him. “See ya. Have fun at Mom and Dad’s.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Cash took his sweet time leaving, dragging one boot in front of the other. Nicola and Sugar watched. Maybe he hoped they’d call him back. Maybe he was concerned about pitting two lady bulls against one another with no one to enforce ground rules.
Garrison's Creed (Titan) Page 15
