by Misty Evans
Caroline groaned. He knew the feeling. What he wouldn’t give to be home at his old apartment, kicking back with a beer and watching a game. Funny how people took the little things—like a shower—for granted.
The three of them trudged into the tiny camper and the sauna-like air nearly suffocated him. The damned heat wouldn’t give. There was a table with a bench seat, a counter, a dorm fridge, and two single beds, one at each end.
No air conditioning.
No bathroom.
“Perfect!” Caroline’s too-cheerful voice held an edge to it. “Mitch, you’re sleeping outside. Good thing New Mexico is having a heat wave or you’d freeze your ass off.”
Even though she’d consumed enough food at the food court to fill three of him, she was tired. Plus, he knew she was still stewing about Donaldson and the mess she’d made of her career. A snarky comeback was on his lips, but he squelched it. What he really should do—wanted to do—was take her in his arms and erase the tight lines around her mouth.
Caroline wasn’t the only one who could use some extra-curricular exercise to take her mind off things.
Now wasn’t the time. He went to an overhead bin and found what he was looking for: a rolled up blanket and a pillow. “No problem.” He grabbed both and brushed past her to head outside. “I don’t mind sleeping under the stars.”
“I can sleep on the floor,” Brice offered.
Mitch shook his head and kept going. Better he wasn’t near Caroline in the middle of the night, remembering how much he loved kissing the skin at the base of her neck, or the way her hands and lips did evil things to him. Brice might end up scarred for life if he witnessed what Mitch wanted to do to her.
Outside, he took a breath of fresh air. God, he hated the smell of mothballs. At least out here, he’d be forced to keep his hands and mouth off Caroline and he wouldn’t smell like some old lady’s underwear drawer.
For a long while he sat near the edge of the lake, half-hoping Caroline would come out and talk to him. He heard an occasional noise from inside the camper, but soon all was quiet. The only thing keeping him company was an owl in the distance. He unfolded his blanket and stretched out, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep. As he lay there, listening to the waves gently lap the shore, he decided a dip in the lake might be what he needed. He smelled ripe and a swim might relax his nerves.
He stripped down and dove in, the water warm and inviting. Probably snakes lived in these waters. After everything he’d survived recently, it would be his shit luck to die from a snakebite.
He swam out to the center of the lake and started back. The bottom wasn’t too deep in most spots and before he was halfway to shore, he stopped and put his feet down. They sank into mud. Yep, shallow waters indeed.
Everything they’d learned that day nagged him. Straw buyers, ATF agents leaning on gun shop owners, the New Mexico AG’s brother threatening people. Tommy’s murder occurring a block away from a straw buyer’s house.
Jesse Lando going AWOL.
Had the government gotten to him or the gun runner?
Mitch started swimming again, hoping the rhythmic exercise would clear his mind. Stroke, stroke, stroke. One thing was for sure. He had more to fear from the snakes in Washington than the ones in this lake.
When he came to a stop a few minutes later, movement on shore caught his eye. As he blinked water from his eyes and swam in place, he realized it was a mirage. Had to be. Not in this lifetime could he get that lucky.
He rubbed at his eyes. The heat, or possibly the mothballs, had fried his brain.
Nope.
The mirage remained.
Caroline stood on the shore, the moon glowing down on her long hair and naked shoulders. Naked everything, in fact. High, taut breasts, flat stomach, and never-ending legs.
She was beyond beautiful. His heart—and his dick—did a little come to papa dance. Because, really, what man in his right mind wouldn’t be attracted to Caroline?
Once she knew she had his attention, she walked slowly, tantalizing, into the water. Had to be a mirage. After all the bad things he’d done in the world, there was no way God was rewarding him with this.
“Hey, Caroline.”
“Hi, Mitch.”
The moonlight illuminated something small and white in her hand. “What have you got there?”
She made a humming noise. “Why, it’s soap.”
That explained it. She’d wanted a shower and was forced to bathe in the lake instead. He recognized her evil plan…to taunt and torture him by making him watch.
She half-walked, half-floated to the spot right in front of him, swimming in place and staying just out of reach. Her eyes were dark pools. Her slender arms created waves that lapped against his chest. She didn’t say anything, just circled around behind him.
“What are you doing, Caroline?”
“Turns out, Brice snores like a maniac. I’m taking a bath.” She ran her hand across the top of his shoulders, her voice low and husky. One of her long legs brushed against his. “Maybe you’d like to join me?”
Mirage or not, God was doing him a solid here. Don’t say anything. Not. One. Fucking. Word. Sure as shit, if he opened his mouth, he’d screw up this fantasy.
She worked over his shoulders, then trailed her fingers with the bar of soap down his spine. His dick was hard and straining and he clenched his jaw together as her breasts bumped against his back, her hands going lower.
“Shit, Caroline.” He couldn’t hold back. “I think you know how I feel about you. I can’t play this game.”
“What game?” her voice was low and seductive in his ear as she dragged the soap up his back.
“I want you so damn bad.” Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut and just take what she was offering? “But if this is going to be a repeat of the-night-that-never-happened, I’m not going there.”
“I sort of liked—make that loved—that night. That may have been the only unguarded interaction we’ve had.” Soap still in hand, she wrapped her arms around his waist, bringing her front into complete contact with his back. Her lips nibbled at his ear lobe.
“The night itself was awesome. I’m talking about the day after when you couldn’t look me in the eye.”
“I know.” She sighed. “Neither of us are in a good place for a relationship. Never have been, and quite possibly, we never will be. But I know what I’m doing right now. With the mess we’re in, this might be all we get.”
He had to work his arms harder to keep them both afloat. “You sure about that? You think you’ve detonated your career, and oh, hey, there’s Mitch. Let me go work out my anxiety on him.”
“Fair enough. You could be right.” She laid her cheek on his shoulder. “But you said you’d do whatever it took to get back into my good graces. I’m calling in the chit.”
“Sex will get me into your good graces? Well, hell, Caroline, why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
She goosed his ass and he laughed. “What I meant was, I don’t know what will happen when we go back to D.C. We may both wind up on the losing end of this deal. Me out of job, maybe facing criminal charges, and you in prison. I’m taking advantage of the time we have. Plus, you’re vulnerable right now. I could have hid your clothes.”
His cock throbbed, scrambling his thoughts. He didn’t like her behind him…he wanted to look her in the eye, make sure she wasn’t taunting him so she could have a good laugh and swim off, leaving him in misery. “Caroline?”
She kissed his shoulder. “Yes?”
“Are you trying to even the score?”
“What score?”
“From the-night-that-never-happened. I didn’t mean to take advantage. Then again, you haven’t been vulnerable a day in your life.”
“Not true about the vulnerable part, but I’m glad you see me that way.” She released him, and damn, he knew it…she swam a few feet away and stared up at the sky. “It’s really beautiful out here.”
She floated on her back, c
losing her eyes. Her nipples broke the surface of the water and he nearly moaned. If only he weren’t a fugitive. If only he’d told Caroline how much he wanted her—not just sexually—during the-night-that-never-happened.
If onlys. He hated them. “Tease,” he said, trying to get a rise out of her.
She stopped floating, looked at him. “Back in D.C., I told you we’d end up screwing each other blind. You really think I’m out here just to tease you?”
“Seems that way, regardless of what you’ve said.”
Bingo. She let go of the soap and swam back to him, getting in his face. Her legs wrapped around him, putting her exactly where he wanted her. “The-night-that-never-happened,” she said. “Round Two. And believe me, you won’t forget what I’m about to do to you.”
His cock wedged in the soft spot between her legs, and he had to hold himself back from plunging home. “The-night-that-did-fucking-happen, and believe me when I say, I’ve been fantasizing about round two for a long, long time. You won’t ever be able to pretend this didn’t happen.”
She laughed and he kissed her. A soft moan escaped her, but there was no surrender in it, only the anticipation of pleasure. Her fingers scraped into his hair as she molded her body to his. The points of her nipples pressed into his chest, and he let his hands roam over her shoulders, her back, her ass. There he cupped her cheeks and prepared to guide himself home.
The owl whoo-whooed in the distance and in the back of Mitch’s mind he heard another sound. Something…a door opening? Caroline stiffened, her arms and legs a solid mass around him. She broke the kiss.
Yep, it wasn’t a figment of his imagination. She’d heard it too. Her eyes were round as she stared straight at him. “Brice?” she whispered.
Mitch glanced over her shoulder, and sure enough, Brice stood on the camper’s front steps.
He held up a hand and the moonlight glinted off what looked to be his cell. “Sorry to interrupt,” he called. “But I figured you’d want to know about this ASAP.”
Caught.
In the lake. With Mitch. Naked.
Humiliation backed up in her throat and Caroline gasped. Even in the cool water, heat stormed her cheeks. Mitch moved in front of her, blocking any view Brice might have even in the darkness. Hadn’t this been her worst nightmare from the night-that-never-happened? That a co-worker would know about her and Mitch and think of her as nothing but an easy lay? A woman sleeping her way to the top?
Brice wasn’t a coworker, but once again, Mitch was in the middle of it. All because Caroline continued to allow it to happen. Continued to allow him to break through all that anger and hurt she’d stored up since he’d gone off the grid and ignored her every attempt to contact him. Superman had Kryptonite, Caroline Foster had Mitch Monroe. Mitch made Kryptonite look weak.
She’d have to consider the consequences of that later because at this moment, she was naked and Brice clearly enjoyed the show.
“I can’t get out of this water,” she whispered.
“I’ll get rid of him.” Mitch lifted his head to where Brice stood on the shore. “What is it?”
“Ethan has an update on Lando.”
Caroline flinched. “Oh, my God.”
“Brice,” Mitch called, “do me a favor and turn around.”
Following instructions, even if he did snicker loud enough for them to hear, Brice turned his back to the lake.
“Unbelievable,” Caroline said.
“Stay behind me until we get to shore and I can get your clothes. Did you bring a towel?”
“Yes. Two. I found them in the cabinet earlier.”
Slowly, they waded out of the water. Caroline stayed behind Mitch, that amazing body with his long, lean muscles gleaming in the moonlight and offering shelter should Brice morph into an ass and sneak a peek.
After a quick dry-off, Caroline shoved her legs into the yoga pants and T-shirt she’d left on shore and tied her wet hair into a knot. The humiliation of getting caught would not derail her. Not now. They had a case to solve and limited time to do it. Any juvenile jokes Brice might throw at her—men were dumb that way—would have to wait.
Plus, she was way beyond putting up with crap from anyone.
Not waiting for Mitch, she marched to the camper. “What’s up?”
Brice swung around, eyeballed her wet hair and winked. “Too bad about the missing shower, huh?”
“Brice,” she said, “one more snide comment and I will lay you out right here.”
Mitch stepped next to her. “I’d take her word for it.”
“You two think I’m blind? The second you came to my door I knew you were either banging each other or would be soon.”
Caroline closed her eyes, fought the humiliation of failing to hide her feelings for Mitch. “Uh, Ethan?”
Brice held open the camper door. “We need to call him back. I wanted us all on the call.”
Inside the camper, the three of them squeezed into the seating area where Brice parked at the small, two-person table while Mitch dropped into one of the two bench seats. Caroline took the opposite seat while Brice dialed Ethan and put the phone on speaker.
“Hey,” Ethan said.
“Hey,” Brice said. “Sorry about that. We’re all here now.”
“My fucking mind is blown right now.”
The gravelly tone in Ethan’s voice, like glass scraping his throat raw, ripped through the phone line. Caroline gave Mitch her what’s this now look.
Mitch sat forward. “What happened?”
“I made a few calls. Tommy was part of Operation Bulletproof, and it was indeed, a secret taskforce, very hush, hush. One of the agents in my office is still in contact with one of the taskforce members. He was sent to one of the New York field offices after Tommy died. They wanted that son of a bitch as far from this as possible.”
“Sure seems that way,” Caroline said. “You spoke to him?”
“Yeah, half hour ago. I asked him about Lando. Hold on to your panties, kids, because Lando was Tommy’s informant.”
Caroline snapped her gaze to Brice, not really looking at him, but having him directly across from her put him in her sight line. What the hell was going on with this case? Tommy was killed by a gun bought buy a straw buyer who was his informant?
Movement from the corner of her eye drew her attention to Mitch. He wrapped his hand around his forehead and squeezed with such force his nail beds filled with color. “Informant for what exactly?”
Good question. Caroline had a few more. First off, if Lando was a known straw buyer and, according to Marty, had been buying excessive quantities of guns, did the taskforce knowingly let those guns walk? All of them?
Couldn’t be.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Ethan let out a long sigh. “With the case sealed and the taskforce members scattered, it’s going to take some time.”
Caroline was still trying to wrap her brain around it, but it made sense. “Tommy knew this guy was buying all these guns legitimately and turning them over to some gun runner, so he didn’t arrest him and turned him into a snitch instead?”
“Yeah,” Ethan said. “According to my guy, Tommy and some of the taskforce agents started moaning about the number of guns Lando and a few others were buying. They were told to stand down.”
“Why?”
“No idea. My guy said hundreds, if not thousands of guns walked. Without busting the straw buyers, the taskforce had no way of tracking all of those weapons. It’s a clusterfuck.”
Caroline sat back and stared up at the top of the camper where a streak of dirt ran at least three feet. She needed to back up and start at the beginning. See if she could follow the timeline and understand where it all started. “What was the point of this taskforce?”
“Ha,” Ethan said. “Get this. New Mexico is trying to crack down on gunrunning. What the agent told me is that the taskforce was supposed to follow the guns until they reached whoever the big dog was. Someone higher than Balboa even.
The fucking genius who developed this plan didn’t count on losing track of the guns before they reached the big dog.”
Mitch let out a derisive grunt. “That fucking genius happen to belong to the Justice Department? As the parent of ATF, in their infinite wisdom—because hey, we all know government agencies never screw up—they approved a plan to allow legally bought weapons to be transferred into the hands of criminals. And agents were forced to let it happen?”
“Pretty much.”
Mitch slouched back, shaking his head and Caroline, she…she didn’t know what to do. Or say. Thousands of illegal weapons had been unleashed on the general public. Who knew how many people were dead because of it? At least one person.
Tommy.
Kemp might be two.
Buzzing anger slashed at her, making her skin burn. Stay calm. She glanced down at her foot, tapped it one, two, three, four times. All she needed to do was get through this call and then she could spew.
“Okay,” she said. “We need to find out who authorized this plan. Did it come from New Mexico ATF or Justice?”
“Why do we care?” Mitch asked. “Both organizations are responsible, aren’t they? And we still don’t know who actually shot Tommy.”
Caroline met his eyes. “We’ll find him and see justice done, I promise you. It starts with investigating who initiated this operation. I think Tommy is dead because of whatever he was doing on this taskforce. He may have been killed by whomever Lando turned that gun over to, but ATF allowed that gun to walk. We have to make sure ATF—and Justice—are held accountable, because in the end, it’s not just about nailing the bastard who shot Tommy.”
Mitch nodded. “We have to clear his name.”
“And make sure this never happens again.”
Chapter Thirteen
Caroline threw the camper door open and stepped out into the still oppressively hot night air. Needing to walk off some energy, that buzzing anger flick-flick-flicking at her from inside, she marched the length of the camper and turned back.
