Loose Ends

by Caitlyn Willows

  "With a few adjustments to the current plan,” Matt replied. “After Allie and I make a couple of personal phone calls."

  "Just keep the sex out of the public eye,” Herb grumbled.

  Allie gave a humorless laugh. “And yet days ago you all cultivated and encouraged that very thing."

  "That's before we saw two undercover agents blasted all over the news,” he snapped. “We don't care what you do behind closed doors. The rest is forbidden. The agency has a reputation."

  "When it's convenient for them,” Allie shot back.

  Her boss jerked around to stare out the window. “Make your calls. We're wasting time."

  CHAPTER 4

  Allie's head still pounded and her stomach churned from the brief nearly one-way conversation she'd had with her mother. Furious was a mild way to put her mom's reaction to the video clip. The words still rang in her ears: “How low will you go,” “Never been more embarrassed and ashamed,” “A hoodlum,” “Fucking in the hallway like a common street whore,” “Nothing can justify this."

  She was right—Allie couldn't utter one word in her defense. She ended the call with, “I have to go, Mom. I love you."

  That garnered the super-guilt comment, “I love you, too, but I'm very disappointed."

  Matt hadn't fared any better. She'd heard a piece of his mother's tirade—"I thought I'd raised you better than that.” That call ended the way hers had.

  Their lectures put a bigger taboo on the whole sex in public thing than Herb or Bob ordering them to cease and desist. It was reckless behavior. And while it was true she and Matt had been cornered at that time, there was no excusing all the public fornicating they'd done on that brief Hawaiian interlude.

  But, damn, it'd sure been hot.

  Allie allowed herself a smile. They'd just have to find other ways to amuse themselves ... and be more discreet at those times when lust overcame good judgment. They also still had a job to do. Fear of parental disillusionment or departmental edicts weren't going to stop them from doing it. As always, she and Matt would do anything and everything for the mission and to stay alive. They'd much rather have their families pissed off than grieving.

  "Tell me that smile is for me.” Matt nuzzled that extra-sensitive spot along her neck, just under her ear.

  Allie arched into the caress, eyes closed, sigh filled with contentment. “Always.” She felt the heat of his hand as it hovered over her breast. Her nipple tightened in anticipation of the caress.

  "Sir? Ma'am?"

  They glanced at the flight attendant hovering next to them. Her black hair was perched precariously on top of her head with a clip. Her pale features were drawn too tight for her age—bad facelift. That had to be one of the many things that had soured her disposition. She'd been eyeballing Matt and Allie since they boarded the flight to Vegas. Maybe she'd even seen them on the news and was waiting to catch them in the act.

  "Yes?” they asked together.

  "Please restore your seats to their upright position in preparation for landing."

  When they dutifully obeyed, the woman moved to her next target.

  "As if the plane can't land until we do so,” Matt muttered.

  Allie giggled, earning a glare from the mop-topped attendant. Matt wrapped his hand over her thigh, moving his fingers up to a hair's breadth from her pussy. She longed to cross her legs and trap his hand in place while she rode him to orgasm. But not only was this flight attendant extra diligent, this plane was smaller.

  "Later,” he whispered against her ear.

  Her smile widened. “I look forward to it."

  They were now fully entrenched in their undercover personas—Matteo Lombardi and Samantha Shaw. Other than clothing, nothing connected them to Matt Oliver and Allie Quinn. They'd made the switch in the SUV, then returned to the LAX terminal and booked a flight to Vegas. By now Sumner would have notified a man there to be on the lookout for them and report back. Petrocelli had most probably done the same thing. Herb and Bob should be with their small team in Vegas ... waiting, watching.

  A new plan was in place, hoping it would provide a catalyst for other events. Matt and Allie were essentially alone, left to their wits and instincts to carry this through. Allie didn't know whether that made her energized or scared. Whichever it was, her heart beat a mile a minute ... or maybe that was because Matt was beside her. For the first time in her career as a special agent, Allie doubted her ability to put the job first.

  Matt laced his fingers through hers as the plane made its final approach. “You okay?” he asked softly.

  She forced herself to nod. He couldn't know how she really felt. They needed their heads straight, their thoughts focused. Allie was hoping him being locked into work mode would help her stay there, too.

  As the aircraft taxied to the jetway, she shoved Samantha Shaw front and center and told her to stay there. She watched the shift in Matt, too. Two federal agents may have stepped onto the flight at LAX, but an opportunistic call girl and a hard-as-nails mob guy walked off in Las Vegas.

  Tucked up tighter than decency allowed, they made their way to baggage claim. His hand stayed on her ass the whole way, tickling the crack every few yards. It might be for show, but it still turned her on something fierce. Her clit swelled between her sopping labia, singing with the strides that rubbed it between them. He swung her before him in the baggage area, anchoring her back to his front with one arm while the ridge of his hard cock pressed into the cleft of her butt. No faking there—he was as turned on as she.

  "I'm going to be the envy of every woman here when they see what you're packing."

  "Think they'll notice?” He brushed her hair from her neck and bit gently.

  Allie sucked in a sharp breath. “They won't be able to help noticing."

  "Don't worry, hot stuff. That eye is only for you.” Matt chuckled, dared to tweak her breast, and stepped away to grab the first suitcase. Allie snagged the next one right behind it. In next to no time, they were headed for the exit ... and looking at two different limo drivers, both of whom held up signs for “Matteo Lombardi.” Looked like the game was on.

  "Ooooh ... you went all out for me. I love a man with flash and style, Teo."

  Matt pulled her to a stop and glanced from man to man. “I hate to disappoint you, but it wasn't me."

  The drivers stepped forward, neither sparing the other a look.

  Driver One motioned them to the exit. “With Mr. Sumner's regards."

  Matt lifted his eyebrow toward the other driver.

  The man tilted a nod his way. “Mr. Petrocelli has extended the courtesy of a proper welcome to our fair city."

  "I'm not too fond of Mr. Sumner.” Allie grabbed Matt's hand and started toward Driver Two.

  He yanked her back in place. “You don't made decisions, understood? Your job is to please me ... period."

  She clamped her mouth closed on a pout.

  Matt returned his attention to the men. “Please extend my thanks and regrets to Mr. Sumner. I'm sure he will understand why I'm hesitant at this time to get into a vehicle he's sent.” He sliced his gaze to the other man. “Please tell Mr. Petrocelli that, while I appreciate his consideration, I don't wish to be placed in an awkward situation.” He ended with a sharp pat to Allie's ass. “Go."

  Chin up, still feigning that pout, she darted between the men and to the exit, suitcases rolling behind her. A taxi swooped up to them the second they were at the curb. She left her bags there, jerked open the back door, and flopped onto the seat. Arms crossed like a petulant child, she stared out the windshield, heart thudding. Had she been believable enough? Been too over the top?

  The vehicle bounced when the trunk lid closed. Matt slipped in beside her as the driver slid behind the steering wheel.

  "Galaxy Casino, and make sure you take the freeway. I don't want a five-hour tour of the Strip,” he said, then wrapped his hot hand over her knee. A subtle brush of his thumb told her all was well.

  She parted her thigh
s and shoved his hand to her crotch. “If we'd taken the limo, this could be yours right now."

  "It still could be. You don't mind an audience. I'm sure our driver won't mind. Maybe he'll want to join in."

  The man's dark eyes widened, but he kept his mouth shut and body forward.

  Allie tsked and shoved him away.

  Matt hauled her against him, one arm anchoring her shoulders into the cove of his body. “Looks like someone needs an attitude adjustment. I'm giving you fair warning ... once we get to our hotel room, expect to be over my knee. It's time my belt and your bare ass got reacquainted."

  She gave him a sexy smile and danced her fingers up his inner thigh right to his balls. “Ooooh ... I can hardly wait."

  Their driver's hand dropped to his lap. She fought a triumphant smirk and crossed her legs to quell the ache Matt's promise created. Sex with him was the only part of this charade that wouldn't be phony. Them having a predilection for exhibitionism was a definite plus. Anyone watching would get an eyeful ... and there was no doubt someone would be watching.

  CHAPTER 5

  Allie let her mind play out the different scenarios they could face, while she watched Las Vegas roll by. Casinos hugged the ribbon of freeway. She wasn't a big fan of the city in daylight. It was dry, stark ... lonely despite the multitude of people. Mid-afternoon in August made it feel more so. Blistering heat shimmered between the towering casinos. Night was when the place came alive, dressed up in millions of bright lights that made resisting her lure impossible. Though bustling during the day, everyone crawled out from their burrows to play at night.

  They were headed to the Galaxy Hotel Casino at the Fremont Street Experience, both favorites of hers. The canopied portion of Fremont Street with its nightly laser show felt like a party all its own—five blocks of casinos, restaurants, vendors, and shops. The Galaxy's lure was a décor that gave the illusion of gambling under the stars. For their purposes, it helped that Petrocelli was a co-owner.

  Matt had predicted a comped room would be waiting for them at the hotel. Since he'd also predicted Sumner and Petrocelli would send someone to the airport to offer them transportation, Allie expected his insight to continue to be correct. His level of knowledge into his subjects took her breath away, exciting her in ways she'd never imagined. Matt was the complete package—hot, sexy, intelligent, fun ... She could go on and on.

  Faults? She glanced his way, studying his profile. Though he had them, any she assigned to him were also ones she'd have to give herself.

  A flash of black caught the corner of her eye. Without moving her head, she shifted her gaze to the window. Sumner's limo had followed them. Matt's gaze cut her way, then drifted over her shoulder. Facing forward, she again used her peripheral vision to see Petrocelli's limo on the other side. The game was most definitely on.

  Heaving what she hoped looked like a sigh of contentment, Allie snuggled closer to Matt. One hand cupped her crotch, while his lips found their way to her ear lobe. She locked her sights onto the Petrocelli limo, not the easiest thing to do when a hot man was thumbing her clit through her pants. The limo driver never so much as glanced their way. That didn't mean that someone wasn't watching from the rear. With the dark glass covering the limo's passenger area, it was impossible to tell. It could even be Petrocelli himself. Within seconds of their display, the driver sped up and moved ahead.

  Allie loosed a deep moan and swung herself astride Matt's lap. She now had a good view of the Sumner limo. Hot fingers swooped under her shirt, straight to her breasts. Matt toyed with her hard nipples through her bra while he licked his way up her throat. This limo driver wasn't so oblivious. He gaped at them, barely keeping his eye on traffic. Given Sumner's fear of flying, not to mention the bail order that kept him in New York, she and Matt could be reasonably certain any passenger onboard wasn't him.

  Their taxi driver hit the gas in order to zip ahead and catch the upcoming exit. The Sumner limo hugged their ass the whole way. Obviously, the driver wasn't shy about letting them know they were being followed, or was too stupid to know any better. Allie grabbed Matt's head between her hands and pulled his face out of her bosom.

  "Wish we'd taken one of those limos now?” she asked.

  "Nope.” He swooped his hands to her butt, pulling her crotch against his erection. “You know I don't like my lovin’ rushed."

  Allie's breath hitched when he thrust his cock against her. Their cab driver would be talking about this to anyone and everyone the second he dropped them off. That should help the plausibility of their cover.

  Matt gave her ass a final squeeze, then hauled her off his lap. They were pulling up to the entrance of the Galaxy Hotel Casino, and Sumner's idiot of a driver was right behind him. He idled there as Matt paid the fare, finally edging away when they grabbed their suitcases and started inside.

  "Shit like that makes me nervous as hell.” Matt's voice was low near her ear.

  She glanced at his reflection as they passed a decorative mirror in the faux white-gold marble lobby. Until that second, she never considered the implication of Sumner's limo dogging them—murder. Her lapse shocked her, but then she'd never expected a hit man to be bold enough to take them out in broad daylight from a high-profile limo among hundreds of witnesses. Where were those instincts she prided herself on? Lost in the throes of the love growing? Muddled in the fire of lust? Or was all of this completely out of her league? Whichever, the stumble had Allie second-guessing herself in ways that could be fatal.

  * * * *

  Staying in character and maintaining a cocksure attitude wasn't so easy when every muscle in Matt's body was locked in fight-or-flight mode. Something had gone wrong. Somehow he'd misjudged Sumner's response. He'd expected a postured threat, but he hadn't expected it to be so open. It wasn't something Sumner would do, not when he had so much to lose. He'd consider Matteo's words first, weighing options that wouldn't point a finger back his way. The limo sent would have been from a company—a gesture of presumed trust from Sumner to Teo—not an assassin.

  That left Matt to conclude one thing—Sumner hadn't sent the limo. It had come from Petrocelli, too. He was trying to widen the rift between Teo and Sumner, to bring Matteo into his fold. How far would he go to do so? Or was this another last-minute change in plans by Matt's people to help stir the pot? He hated not knowing, hated second-guessing his knowledge of his target and what move to make next.

  Smile plastered in place, Matt led Allie to registration. He'd felt the shift in her, too, at the overt threat. Tension tightened her muscles, stealing that Samantha Shaw sway. Questions poured from her wide brown eyes. He was losing her. Hell, he was losing himself trying to evaluate this latest twist.

  "Checking in?” The clerk's smile was extra-bright against her leathery tan. It wasn't a nice look.

  Matt fished his wallet from his back pocket. “Matteo Lombardi and Samantha Shaw, we have reservations."

  Inch-long blue nails clicked against the keyboard. Her smile didn't falter. Matt wondered if it'd been botoxed in place.

  "Yes ... here it is ... a comped one-bedroom spa suite, courtesy of Galaxy Casino."

  At least he'd predicted that right. “There must be a mistake,” he said. “Ours was a single room with king bed."

  "No mistake, sir.” She tapped her monitor. “It was specifically requested by one of the owners ... Mr. Petrocelli ... a suite normally reserved for his family and friends. Everything including meals, room service, and mini-bar has been comped."

  Allie looped her arm through his. “Please, Teo. This is way better than the limo. Where's the harm? You said you were thinking this could be a honeymoon. This would be a great way to start."

  He reached down and cupped her butt cheek. “Why not?” he said with a smile, then followed up with a squeeze to Allie's ass.

  Within minutes the bellman was escorting them up to a floor that required its own keycard to access. He and Allie might have played their parts well with the clerk, but wariness and tens
ion still shimmered around them. Anyone watching for inconsistencies would pick up on it, and he didn't doubt for a second Petrocelli had the suite wired for video surveillance.

  When the elevator dinged, the bellman held the door for them, then pushed the luggage cart through and led them down the hallway. Dark green walls and carpet absorbed all sound, reflecting nothing back. Slender threads of red and gold swirled beneath their feet in no discernible pattern. Gold plaques beside cream-colored doors designated the room names. On this floor apparently room numbers weren't allowed.

  They stopped before a corner suite called “Midnight Gold.” When the bellman swung the door open, Matt and Allie stepped into the open room. Everything was smoky gray or black, edged in gold—furniture, fixtures, carpet. From the entrance there was a step down into a sunken living area. A black suede sectional surrounded a circular glass-topped table. To the left a small kitchenette and bar waited, apparently fully stocked from what Matt could see. There was one bathroom by the front door, another most probably off the bedroom to the right.

  A blinking red light caught the corner of his eye—one of many smoke detectors. Sprinkler heads dotted the sparkling ceiling. It'd be easy to hide surveillance cameras among the safety paraphernalia.

  "No draperies?” Allie asked as she pointed to the bank of curved windows making up the far wall.

  The bellman pointed to a control panel by the door. “They darken as you wish. The designer wanted nothing to obscure the view."

  It was a magnificent one, Matt would admit. Even from this distance, he could see the town spread out, the mountains surrounding them. From oversized chairs of black suede or the bubbling hot tub nearby, you would watch the sun rise or set, glory in the display of lights over the valley, monitor an approaching thunderstorm.

  "Shall I take these to the bedroom?” the young man asked.

  Matt turned from the view. “No, thank you. We'll take care of the luggage.” He slipped the man a twenty and escorted him to the door, double-locking it afterward.