by Mia Watts
“Why me?” Sam asked him.
Uncertainty flitted across Jude’s face. “I’m not sure. Can that be enough for now?”
“I think so, but I’m going to want to know more if we see how far this thing goes. I can’t hang around waiting for you to make up your mind. I want more for my life than that.”
“You should want more.” Jude didn’t offer any further explanation.
“And last night? What was that?”
Jude winced. Dropping Sam’s hand, he ran a hand through his hair and folded his arms across his chest.
Sam frowned. “Don’t get all defensive on me.”
“I’ve had enough confession for the day.”
“Last one. We don’t have time to play coy. What happened last night?” Sam pressed.
“I fucked you.”
“Yeah, you did do that. You also tied me up and spanked me. Care to explain?”
Jude shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Not really.”
Sam put his hands on his bare hips. “Just tell me it won’t be the last time.”
Jude’s gaze heated. “I didn’t hurt you?”
“I liked it.”
“Have you ever—”
“No,” Sam finished for him. “Have you?”
Jude shook his head. “But you liked it.”
“I liked you doing it.”
“There are other things I want to do,” Jude suggested cryptically.
“Like?”
Jude shook his head. “Enough talk. We have a flight to catch.”
He physically turned Sam around and swatted him on the ass. Sam yelped and hurried to the bedroom. Packing would be easy. They’d come with nothing. They’d leave with nothing more than Jude’s gun and their toiletries. A shower and some clothes were all Sam needed. Well not all. He needed Jude hard and inside him. His body quaked happily. Soon. Tonight. In New York, now that the threat against him was over.
Thank God.
* * * *
The tiny plane had been too noisy for Jude to do more than steal glances at Sam. He’d offered to let Sam take the controls, but Sam declined. He couldn’t wait to land. Pleasure hummed through Jude. He actually felt excited. It had been a long time since he’d been excited for a relationship.
He stole another look. Yeah, those bright blue eyes definitely got him going, but it was the sharp intelligence right behind them, hiding a quiet sensitivity that Jude really wanted to explore.
He taxied the plane into a small hanger. Waiting for them, like before, was a duffle with keys, directions, and clothes for the final night of protective custody. Jude dropped a smaller toiletries bag from the cabin into the side pocket of the duffle. Then Jude clicked the key fob until he heard the lock mechanism trigger on a nearby car. The alert beep had been disabled, as expected.
“This is it, then,” Sam murmured. “Last night and then I get to go back to my life.”
Jude watched him, looking for cues, but Sam’s expression had been carefully guarded. When the other man ducked into the car, Jude followed, handing him the duffle.
“That’s how it works,” Jude offered noncommittally.
“How anti-climactic. Does the little girl get to go home too?”
Jude knew he’d been worried about her. After seeing her parents murdered, she’d become the primary target. “James wouldn’t have come to the farmhouse if she were in danger.”
Jude maneuvered the car through the electric gate system. They’d landed in upstate New York and had an hour or so drive to get to the beaten down motel the FBI had arranged for them. Tomorrow they’d head to the sector office. Paul Winston wasn’t getting away a second time.
“That’s good. What happens after today?” Sam asked.
“We get your statement at the sector office, show you some evidence for identification. Mostly we need information to back up the girl’s story. We can’t let this guy get through on a technicality again.”
“I meant with us, but again? This guy has been in the FBI sights before and got away?” Sam shifted uneasily in his seat.
Jude glanced over at him, then back at the road. “He slipped through our fingers. We have more on him now than before.”
“But, theoretically, he could get away and come after me and the kid,” Sam supposed.
“It’s not going to happen.”
“But it could.”
“It won’t. Quit worrying about it. He’d have to get passed me first,” Jude told him with finality.
Sam smiled curiously at Jude. Jude wanted to explore that expression further but staying on the road seemed more imperative.
“What?” Jude asked instead.
“You’re offering to protect me beyond tomorrow?”
Jude shrugged. Had he? Yeah, he supposed he had. “It would look bad if they killed you.”
Sam squirmed again, pushing himself up to sit on one hip.
“How’s your ass?” Jude teased.
“Sore. Not as bad, but all this sitting isn’t helping.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. I enjoyed every minute of it.” Sam tucked a foot under himself and re-seat belted.
Jude wanted to ask Sam about sex. It was nerve wracking, he decided. He’d been rough with Sam to avoid emotional attachment and to refocus on just fucking the man. When Sam had given himself over to whatever Jude wanted to do, and gave back with the same intensity, Jude knew he’d underestimated Sam.
Jude didn’t know if he wanted strings. Yet the idea of cutting Sam loose for another man to have made every instinct in his body rebel. He gritted his teeth. The “L” word came to mind, and Jude wanted to banish it. He didn’t do sappy.
It was just a fuck, that’s all. Get that other shit out of your head, Cheney.
Whatever Jude was thinking about had put him in a sour mood for the rest of the drive. He answered in monosyllables. By the time they pulled up in front of the skeezy motel with dirt-stained doors and burlap-like, smoke scented curtains, Sam was ready to knock Jude’s head into the wall for being a dick. They had one more night together, and then it was over. The case, the interlude—if it could even be called that.
Sam opened the duffle bag on the moist-feeling polyester bed cover. His primary goal was food. He found granola bars and snorted his disdain.
“Maybe someone delivers in this shit-hole,” Sam said, feeling Jude’s dark mood poisoning his own.
Jude flipped through a courtesy folder that some child had scribbled on and torn pages out of. “Pizza.” He picked up the phone and ordered.
“Make sure it has lots of garlic and onions,” Sam snapped.
“Hold the onions,” Jude told the person on the line. He hung up. “Thirty minutes.”
Jude looked at him speculatively. He crossed the room, edging around the second bed corner to get to Sam. “Want to tell me what this is about?”
“You first,” Sam insisted. “You’ve been oozing pissy-ness since we landed.”
“I have a lot on my mind.”
Jude thoughtfully fisted the front of Sam’s shirt, looking like he wasn’t sure he wanted to do what he was doing. As he pulled Sam in, his rich brown eyes didn’t look nearly as confident as they had a second ago. Jude leaned down, giving Sam time to reject the advance. Sam wasn’t about to.
His lips tingled when Jude kissed him. Smooth and gentle, Jude’s mouth rubbed Sam’s, finding a place to settle that fit him just right. Sam slid his arms around Jude’s neck. God, the man could kiss. It made his knees week every time.
One of Jude’s hands eased around Sam’s waist, flattening on his lower back. The hold wasn’t the least bit sexual. It merely supported him, asking for nothing in return but that he stand and accept the kiss, or leave. Sam parted his lips, leaving Jude no doubts that Sam wanted to be nowhere but where he was, held by this man. At least, he hoped Jude got the message.
Jude’s other arm wrapped around him, holding him tight to Jude’s chest. The slide of his lips on Sam’s w
as addictive. Warm and slick, the flick of a tongue to tease the opening Sam had given him was part of Jude’s expert seduction. He didn’t press the kiss further, and he also didn’t let up.
Sam’s cock raged hard and eager. He bumped his hips against Jude’s relishing the equally rigid length he found there. His hands shook to hold it, but he wanted Jude to set the pace, and if it meant accepting the tantalizingly slow seduction, Sam didn’t want to miss a moment of it.
Someone knocked on the door. Jude took a step back. He blew out a breath, a wicked smile flirting with the corners of his mouth. “Dinner’s here.”
Sam licked his lips. “Fuck food.”
Jude laughed as he pulled out his wallet and removed several bills. It was the first time all day Sam had seen him completely at ease. In fact, Jude had never been this relaxed. Sam liked this side of him. His body moved more loosely. He smiled more easily. His eyes lit up and weren’t constantly searching or analyzing. He looked younger, happier, and Goddamn if he didn’t look a thousand times sexier. Sam hadn’t believed it possible to want Jude more than he already did. He’d been sorely mistaken.
Jude backed his way to the door, keeping his eyes locked on Sam, that secretive smile in place. It took all Sam’s willpower to keep from running to him and dragging him to the bed.
“Check the toiletries bag. I put my gun and some other stuff in there.”
Sam reached for the duffle, unzipping the side panel. He pulled out the lube and foil-wrapped condoms from the farmhouse. “So that’s what you put in there.”
“I couldn’t just tote my gun in the open. And the risk of a firearm in the cockpit? No thanks. Complaining?” Jude asked.
“Not at all. I’m glad you had the foresight.”
“Always be prepared,” Jude quipped.
“I think you’re confused. That’s the Boy Scout motto, not the FBI’s.”
“There are more similarities than you’d think.” Jude unbolted the door as a second knock sounded. “Coming.”
“I certainly hope so,” Sam said under his breath, eyeing Jude’s firm ass with interest.
The door kicked open suddenly, knocking Jude backward. Sam startled, dropping the small bag he’d been holding, and stared at the barrel of a gun being leveled on Jude.
Chapter Seven
“Jude!”
“Stay calm,” Jude told him, holding a hand up in his direction. “Don’t move.”
Derek held a pizza in his other hand. “I hope you don’t mind my intercepting dinner.” He sniffed the box dramatically.
“What the fuck are you doing Derek?” Jude bit out.
“Taking care of a slight glitch in Mr. Winston’s plan.”
“You work for Winston?” Jude asked incredulously. The FBI had always suspected Winston had someone working on the inside, but he’d never have guessed it to be an agent so close the investigation. No wonder they always seemed to be one step ahead.
Derek dropped the pizza box on the nearest bed. “Get comfortable. We have guests coming any minute.”
“Who are you expecting?” Sam asked.
Jude motioned for him to stay quiet when Derek’s gun swung in Sam’s direction. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sam quickly sit on the foot of the second bed.
“I like convenience. I like tidying up loose ends even more. What’s more tidy and convenient than taking care of two birds with one stone? Hm?” Derek made a dramatic show of thinking about it. “Can’t think of one. Can you?”
The sound of a car door shutting, the snuffle of a child trying to hold back tears, and another man’s voice brought the reality of their situation glaringly to light. The little girl tripped into the room clutching her teddy bear. Her big blue eyes widened as she saw the gun. The second man, someone Jude didn’t know but thought he should, shoved the girl toward Jude. He caught her easily, squatting down to look her in the eyes.
“You’re Matilda Piltnik, aren’t you?” he asked her.
The girl nodded.
“I’m Agent Cheney. See that man sitting on the bed? That’s my friend, Sam. Can you go sit with him, sweetheart?”
She didn’t look like she trusted him. No wonder considering that an agent, the agent assigned to protect her, had just delivered her to a killer.
“C’mere, honey,” Sam called her.
Derek picked up the pizza box and tossed it to the other bed where Sam and Matilda were. “Eat something. Maybe it’ll shut her up.”
“Derek, what are you doing? She needs to be kept safe.” Jude tried to reason with him.
“You know better than that, Cheney. If an agent’s gonna turn, he’s gonna turn big.”
The unknown man who’d delivered the girl leaned around the motel door. “He’s secured, sir.”
A shadow filled the opening, backlit from the outside light. Jude caught a glimpse of a businessman dressed in a suit coat and tie.
“I want it to look like he did it,” the man told Derek.
“It will. The evidence they find will point directly to Agent Cheney. They’ll think he went rogue, shot the two witnesses and then hung himself,” Cheney assured.
“Good. You, go outside and keep watch.” The second guy disappeared, bumping passed the newcomer as he went.
As the businessman stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him, there was no mistaking his identity. Paul Winston was taking care of business personally. And that realization provided the identity of the other man, his assistant. No wonder he’d looked vaguely familiar. If Jude hadn’t been assigned to specifically watch Sam, he’d have recognized the man instantly.
He still should have known. Not that it changed anything.
“Mr. Winston. Doing your dirty work personally?” Jude asked, hoping to buy time.
“Just not allowing there to be any confusion this time around. You’ve been quite a thorn in my side, Agent Cheney. I don’t like thorns. I pluck them out.”
“Really? We’re going for bad cop-drama dialogue here? Is there a rule book that requires bad use of metaphors for you people?” Sam snapped.
“Geez, Sam,” Jude said, glaring at him. “Not now.”
“Sorry.”
“Mouthy sonofabitch, isn’t he?” Winston said.
“You’d have to ask Cheney. He’s been sucking that one’s cock all week,” Derek snarked.
Winston smacked him on the back of the head. “Watch your mouth. There’s a kid here.”
“Ow! She’s gonna be dead in ten minutes anyway.”
Matilda started crying. Sam hugged her, running a hand over her hair and making soothing noises. He glared at Derek. “Have some sensitivity, moron. She’s just a kid.”
“Hey,” Jude said, standing. He needed their attention back on him. Anything to keep the gun from being pointed at Sam or Matilda. “What can we do to convince you that you’re safe? Do you want anything? A trade? I can get the sector on the phone and we can have a little chat.”
“Your little office is nothing to me,” Winston said. “I have people everywhere. You’re just an inconvenience.”
“Derek, think about what you’re doing,” Jude cautioned.
“I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought it through two point six million times, and I’ve decided that Mr. Winston has every right to be as secure as he wants.”
“So, you see, Agent Cheney, there’s nothing further to discuss.” Winston motioned at Derek. “Take care of it.”
“Yes, sir.” Derek waved his gun. “Go stand over there. I want you about five feet away.”
“I’m not going to make this easy for you. If you want it to look like suicide by hanging, then you can’t shoot me.”
“Don’t think I can’t use it to my advantage,” Derek argued. “I could always claim that I followed you back here, got a shot off, but was too late. Hanging you was just a suggestion. I can make just about anything work to my advantage. Put your hands on your head and keep them there. Where’s your firearm?”
“In the bag,” Jude told him, t
ipping his chin toward the duffle. He glanced briefly for the toiletries kit that had fallen on the ground. He didn’t see it.
Sam continued to gently shush the child, whispering calm words and sending her small smiles. The little girl suddenly broke free.
“Mister,” she said, looking up at Jude. Her lips trembled and she looked terrified. “Please take care of Boodle-jinx for me.” Her tiny hands covered his eyes, as though she protected him from seeing.
“Honey, you should hang on to him,” Jude told her gently.
She shook her head wildly. “No! I don’t want him to see.” Her huge blue eyes watered.
Jude looked to Derek and Winston for permission. “Seeing her parents die freaked her out enough. Do you mind?”
“Make it quick,” Winston barked.
Jude took the bear from her shaking hands, careful to put his hands over the bear’s eyes like she had. “I’ll make sure he’s okay,” he told her.
The bear’s little backpack was heavy. He shot a quick look at Sam. Sam gave him an almost imperceptible nod. The gun.
Matilda ran back to Sam’s outstretched arms and huddled there. Jude left one hand over the bear’s eyes. Then, not giving himself time to over-think it, he reached into the tiny pack and grabbed the gun. Its comfortable weight settled in his palm. Peace washed over him. This was his talent. These moments were made for him.
With the stuffed bear pressed to his chest, the other two men didn’t know yet what Jude knew. Another gun had just joined the fray. There was a guy outside keeping watch. He’d hear the gun when it fired. There was Derek with a firearm of his own, he’d be first. Winston wouldn’t want to dirty his hands.
In one swift move, Jude stepped between Derek and Sam, pulling the gun free. He got off a shot, nicking Derek’s upper arm and rendering his hand useless. Derek bellowed, reeling backward, his gun flying into the wall and dropping behind the bedside table.
Winston ran for the door.
“Don’t,” Jude warned him.
The door opened anyway. The assistant was blocking Winston’s path. Jude leaped across the distance grabbing Winston by the collar and hauling him backward, gun at the base of his skull.
