Critical Density

by Desiree Holt

  Thank god!

  “And that’s not usually me,” she went on.

  He delicately bit shoulder. “I don’t care what you did or didn’t do before or who you did or didn’t do it with. We have something special here. I knew it that first night.”

  He slid his fingers into her wet slit and stroked them up through the crease between the cheeks of her ass. He loved the tremors that raced through her.

  “Me, too. I think that’s why I practically threw myself at you.”

  “And thank god you did. You can be sure I’m not throwing you back.”

  He shifted slightly so he could reach the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a couple of condoms. With an ease borne of too many years of practice, he unwrapped one and slid it onto his now very achy cock. He tested her readiness, thrilled that she was still soaked from her orgasm.

  “Hang on, darlin’,” he told her.

  Gripping his dick with one hand and positioning the head of it at her entrance, he eased it slowly inside. Heat flashed through him as her inner walls gripped him tightly, flexing and squeezing him. Shit! He hoped he lasted long enough to give her yet another orgasm. Her pleasure was more important to him than his own.

  Gripping her hips to hold her in place, he began a steady in-and-out movement, slow at first then increasing in speed. She rocked on her hands and knees, pushing back at him in a measured rhythm. In seconds they were rocking together, her movements as strong as his. Sliding in and out of that hot channel nearly blew his mind. He wasn’t sure how long he’d last, so he reached around with one hand to her sex, finding her clit and pinching and stroking it.

  “Oohhh.” The long sound slid from her mouth.

  The harder he drove into her, the more he teased that hot nub of flesh. He felt the spasms coming to life in her inner walls, grabbing and squeezing his cock, so he picked up the pace. Faster. Harder. More and more and more. The moment he felt her orgasm begin, he let go, pulsing into the condom. She rocked back into him again and again, the muscles of her sex clenching and tightening, milking him.

  It went on for so long, he wondered if they’d both survive. Then, after an explosion that shook them both, the spasms subsided, leaving them sated but exhausted. He eased her onto the pillow face down, stretching her body out beneath him. His cock nestled perfectly in the crevice between the cheeks of her ass. He was so tempted, but for one thing, he had already worn her out pretty good, and for another, when he got to it, he wanted it to be the main event. Cataclysmic. Earth-shattering for both of them.

  Besides, right now they were both spent and languid.

  “I think I can’t move,” she murmured into the pillow.

  “Good. I don’t want you to.” He pressed a line of kisses from shoulder to shoulder. “Listen to me. Galaxy is going to clean up this shit as fast as we can so you and I can get on with our lives. Together.”

  “Now it’s my turn to say good.” She paused and looked back over her shoulder. “But do you really think you can? Fix this? It’s a huge mess.”

  “Darlin’, there’s nothing we can’t do. Count on it.” He gave her another light kiss, this one on her neck. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  He disposed of the condom in the bathroom and hurried back to the bedroom. Hannah was lying exactly where and how he’d left her. He turned onto his side and adjusted her so she was molded to his body, one arm wrapped around her waist. Again, the way they were lying together, his dick found a home just between the cheeks of her ass. He banded her with his arm when she wriggled against him.

  “You better stop that. We’re both too tired right now, and when I get to that I want plenty of energy and plenty of time.”

  She shivered and squeezed his arm.

  “If you can fix this, you can have any kind of celebration you want.”

  He kissed her cheek and thought how lucky he was that he’d decided to have a drink in that particular bar on that particular night. He was damn sure going to get this mess cleaned up, because he wanted them to get on with their life together.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Diesel had been in his office since six o’clock, doing his best to dig through the shitstorm that seemed to just continue to grow. Henry and the Conductor were all over his ass. Investors were screaming that if he didn’t fix this, they wanted their money back and they’d take their plans somewhere else. But it would also be the end of Lowden Tactical, and a lot of people would be after his ass if that happened.

  Diesel was barely at his desk in his office, with his perfectly brewed mug of coffee, when his cell phone rang. He looked at the screen and thumbed the Accept button.

  “Go,” he said to Ed Fletcher, who was on the other end of the call. “And it better be good news.”

  “Better than before.”

  “Okay.” Diesel ground his teeth in impatience. “Let me have it.”

  “I put extra men on this, so don’t throw a shit fit when you get my bill.”

  “If you can find this bitch and bring her to me, I don’t care what the fuck it costs. Now let’s have it.”

  “We eliminated Atlanta and New Orleans, so I brought everyone to Tampa. I’ve got four of my guys sitting with laptops searching for every place that fits the description we got within a hundred-mile radius of the city.” A pause. “We’re slowly narrowing it down. We have to break into databases because no one is going to answer the questions we need to ask.”

  Diesel frowned. “They won’t tell you if a plane is hangared at their facility? Or if they know where you might find one?”

  Ed’s sigh could be heard over the connection. “I’m telling you, it’s a bitch. No one gives out information about anything, unless you’re the police or the Feds and have a warrant. They protect the privacy of clients like you wouldn’t believe.”

  Diesel resisted the urge to yell at Ed. The man was doing his job. Diesel knew that.

  “Ed, this is not some cheap little dinky plane we’re talking about here,” Diesel reminded him. “The purchase price is anywhere from eighteen to twenty-one million. How many could there be in that area, for fuck’s sake?”

  “You’d be surprised. There’s a lot of money in this area. Plus you have northerners who spend half their time here and fly back and forth. So even if the plane we’re looking for flew here from Houston, it could have left to go back up north already.”

  Shit. Just damn shit.

  “So where are we, then? We’re running out of time.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” the other man snapped. “I just wanted to give you an update. We’ll get it done. At least we’re in the right city.”

  Diesel damn sure hoped so.

  “All right. Keep me in the loop. I want regular reports.”

  “Of course.”

  “And, Ed?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Money is no object. If you can’t actually get to her, destroy her and everyone with her. You know how. You’re good at leaving no clues to follow.”

  There was a short pause.

  “That urgent?”

  “Yes.” Diesel’s answer was short and clipped.

  “Fine. Consider it taken care of.”

  He’d no sooner disconnected the call from Ed when the phone rang again. When he looked at the screen, he wanted to throw the thing out of the window. Henry. For fuck’s sake, will the man just keep his shirt on and let us take care of things?

  “Yes, Henry. We’re taking care of things.”

  “You’d damn well better be,” the man snapped. “If you want to continue your glory ride, that is. The announcement of the new committee chair is next Monday.”

  “Plenty of time,” Diesel assured him, hoping to hell he was right. “I have an expanded team on it right now and we’re closing in.”

  “I want regular updates,” Henry insisted. “The others are getting antsy, too. And you know what happens when they’re displeased.”

  Diesel knew all too well. “I’ll call you later.”
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  That was about all of Henry he could take at the moment. He leaned back in his chair and thought of that first meeting that had taken place and everything that had moved forward from there. They’d all, the core group, been coincidentally at a gathering on a remote Caribbean island. Somehow, five of them had gravitated together for drinks at the bar. Then they’d moved to the Conductor’s suite.

  As people loved to say, ‘liquor is often the key that unlocks many doors’. The Conductor, dissatisfied with so many things on the world stage, had had a plan he’d been hatching for a long time. All he’d needed were like-minded people in key positions around the world and heavy financial backing. He’d take it from there. And it has all fallen into place.

  Diesel had to admire the man. There was no doubt he played his role brilliantly. No one outside their circle meeting him would have a clue that this was the mastermind behind their growing program. Sometimes he had to swallow a smile at the way people reacted to him, as if he was just another guy, albeit a smart one.

  But Diesel was well aware that the sum of his future lay with the Conductor. If he fucked this up, if he didn’t get his hands on Hannah Modell and dispose of her, if he didn’t clean up this mess, everything could blow up in his face and there wouldn’t be a hole deep enough for him to hide in.

  Fuck it all, anyway. How had he misjudged the woman so badly?

  He busied himself with work during the morning, the cell phone sitting in painful, tantalizing silence. Maybe he should have shot the woman himself. He could have planned it like any other operation. Let out the word she was a traitor. That they had brought her back for a debrief and she’d managed to get away, and they had not seen her since. He could kill her and bury the body where no one but an archeologist could find her.

  That was what the Conductor wanted him to do. But he’d hedged his bet. He was worried that there was something, some small thing they might need her for. Then they could dispose of her.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  If they didn’t find her before she did any damage to their plans, it might easily be his body that people would find generations from now.

  Coffee. He needed coffee. Not that he wasn’t already enough on edge, but coffee was his drug of choice, and right now he needed it. A lot.

  Then he forced himself to go back to work, hoping the tasks ahead of him could make the day pass fast enough. And that before the end his problem would be solved.

  * * * *

  Rocket accepted the drink Tom Hernandez handed him then followed the man out to the back patio.

  “You want to tell me why we’re meeting at your house instead of your office?” he asked, sitting in one of the chairs. “I didn’t think this was a social occasion.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “I take it you learned something too hot to share in your office.”

  Tom nodded. “That’s the damn truth. Holy shit, Rocket. You guys keep getting yourselves wrapped up in political chicken wire. You’re lucky you don’t have a big target on your backs. Or that you all haven’t just disappeared off the face of the earth.”

  Rocket lifted an eyebrow. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  For a long moment, Tom said nothing else. Then he sipped from his own drink, set the glass down and shoved his hands into his pockets. When he began to pace the tiled surface, Rocket knew this was more than just relaying information. When Tom had called to set up the meeting, it had been obvious from the tone of his voice that something big was up.

  “It means the more you get into dirty politics, the greater the risk, and you guys are really stepping into it now.” He rubbed his jaw. “This is more than just some people trying to cover their asses. This wasn’t a mistake. This was planned in careful detail, driven by politics.”

  “Well, shit, Tom. You’d better explain yourself. I didn’t think this had to do with any kind of politics, dirty or otherwise. What’s the deal, anyway? Why don’t you just spit it out, whatever it is? Since when do you have trouble telling me anything?”

  Tom swallowed more of his drink. That in itself was a signal of trouble to Rocket. The other man was not much of a drinker, especially in the daytime, so this must really have been off the charts. Every muscle in Rocket’s body tensed up, but he did his best to keep a calm expression on his face.

  “First of all,” Tom began, “you need to know that getting you the information on this stuff is very tricky. This all revolves around the Senate Armed Services Committee. They control a lot of stuff that provides very lucrative contracts for private firms, depending on the project.”

  “I can smell trouble already.”

  “Uh huh. Among many things the committee has oversight for is the Pentagon and their contract bids. Also approval for projects that create those contracts. And the committee chair has the ability to manipulate things.” He raked his fingers through his hair, an unusual nervous gesture for a man who for the most part stayed calm and unruffled. “You guys are stepping into some deep shit here and we’ve barely gotten started asking questions.”

  “Exactly what does that mean?” Rocket was doing his best not to show signs of the tension creeping through him. “What kind of deep shit?”

  “They don’t like people roadblocking them or interfering in their business. Not even a little. This is a hell of a lot more than a mistake in programming a drone. This was a deliberate kill. There are people who are part of this that can bury you if you don’t get your nose out of their business. I’m not kidding, Rocket. I am stunned at the powerful names that keep sliding into the conversations I’m having.” He paused. “You sure you want to do this?”

  “I’m sure that Viper is in all the way, and if he is, so are we. So let’s have it already, for fuck’s sake. What else can you tell me and what do we need to do? Who do we need to watch out for?”

  “When you guys were investigating that attorney, Peter Kendrick, and his dirty former senator friend, Warren Sulzberger, did you ever come across or hear the name Henry Baumann?”

  Rocket frowned. “I don’t believe so. And I try to stay away from politics unless I have to. Too many people like Sulzberger. What’s the deal with Baumann?”

  “He’s been in the Senate a long time and is a big deal on the Senate Armed Services Committee. Second-longest-serving member, as a matter of fact. Survives no matter which party is calling the shots.”

  “That’s really saying something.” Rocket snorted. “He’s either very good or very crooked. What’s his involvement in this?”

  “My sources tell me he’s been angling to chair the committee every time his party is in control. He’s always been outdone by someone with more connections and more power, although Henry’s no slouch.”

  “Must be pretty pissed off,” Rocket commented.

  “He hasn’t been happy, that’s for sure,” Tom agreed. “He was ripe for something like this and he’s been building his power base. Promising things if he were the chair. From what little I have been able to glean so far, Baumann works hard to portray the image of the politician with all the connections who can solve all your problems. He spouts patriotic platitudes, which is one reason why he keeps his position on the Senate Armed Services Committee. But—”

  “But what?”

  “But there is a lot going on beneath the surface. The Armed Services Committee has a lot of power where the military is concerned, and can influence contracts. Hell, they can even propose changes to legislation that affect the way the Pentagon does business. People manipulating events for their own personal gain.”

  “That’s not really anything new,” Rocket pointed out.

  “But it’s the force of the people involved. They can destroy small countries. Gossip behind closed doors says Baumann has gathered some pretty formidable people behind him who want this to happen. Hegman was a stumbling block. Besides being unwilling to manipulate what the committee does to the benefit of the rich and powerful, he liked investigating companies that he felt screwed t
he military or had improper contracts. They needed a way to get rid of him that wouldn’t come back on them and Viper’s woman became the fall guy.”

  “Shit, Tom. Are you kidding me? What a fucking mess.”

  Tom nodded. “Baumann was ripe for this. He wanted the power. Lusted for it. They courted him, helped put him in the position he’s in now, and as chairman, he could manipulate things so the people backing him profited.”

  “But how does that affect Hannah Modell?”

  “Like I said, Hegman had to be eliminated so Baumann could move up. Someone came up with the idea of using a drone and saying the payload for an off-the-books government contract was delivered to the wrong place. They chose Hannah for the project because they decided she could be sacrificed for this. As far as they knew, she was pretty much alone in the world.”

  “Which she was,” Rocket pointed out, “before she met Viper.”

  “The word is they were planning to stash her away until they had all their ducks in a row. Then they’d announce she either screwed up or had been paid off or something, show her off to the public, then get rid of her and tell people she’d escaped and they had no idea where she was. Of course, they’d bury her body where it wouldn’t be found in this millennium.”

  “I’m sure the last thing they expected was for her to hook up with someone like Viper.”

  Tom nodded. “No shit.”

  “I’m guessing all this is the reason you had me come sneaking into your house.”

  The other man actually laughed, breaking the tension a little. “Sneaking into my house?”

  “Yeah. What else would you call it? We usually hook up at your office or over lunch. Or dinner.”

  “Yeah, well. I didn’t want to leave any trail for someone to follow and have you lead them back to Viper and thus to Hannah. I’m pretty damn sure, since I started asking questions, there have been eyes on me.”

  “Good thought. You know they’re doing their best to find her as it is.”

  Tom rubbed his jaw. “Rocket, this is bigger than I even imagined. I’m sensing it everywhere I turn. It’s so big no one even wants to touch on it. Almost as if they’re running away from something. Hegman’s murder—let’s call it what it is—was just the first step.”