MORE THAN THE MOON

by A Rosendale

  After a moment, Christian started to calm down and raised an arm to return the hug.

  “We’re getting a little too comfortable here,” Dirk joked lightly and Christian released the woman.

  “Have you called the police?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” Christian answered. “I will. I…I should go.” He placed the ice on a nearby coffee table and got to his feet without resistance. “I’m okay,” he added in response to the concerned stare Dirk aimed at him.

  “Why don’t you stay for breakfast?” Alma suggested.

  “Yes. Stay,” Dirk pressed. Christian was still pale and trembling.

  He hesitated, then nodded and resumed his seat on the couch.

  * * *

  “I’m sorry for the intrusion,” Dirk apologized after Christian left around noon, no doubt on his way to the office to report.

  “It’s fine. I’m glad your friend is okay.” She placed her plate in the dishwasher and turned to face him, unaware that he’d been staring. He put his hands on her hips.

  “I think you look wonderful in that shirt,” he purred.

  She shrugged. “I couldn’t find my sweater.”

  His kiss on her neck flushed her skin with heat. “Hmm. I’ll have to arrange to lose your clothes more often.” He left a trail of kisses down her neck to her exposed collarbone. A soft moan escaped her throat and spurred his advances. He lifted her onto the counter, reveling in the feel of her fingers trailing over his back. His lips returned to hers while his fingers flicked open the buttons of the shirt. He could taste the moan that accompanied the feel of his warm hands on bare skin. Her legs wrapped around his waist. He took it as a cue and lifted her, carrying them both to the bedroom.

  Chapter 10

  Dirk finished tying his black necktie just as the bedroom door of the hotel suite opened. His breath caught when Alma appeared, clad in a tight black dress that came to mid-thigh, accentuating her long, toned legs. Black heels adorned her narrow feet and her hair was pulled up in a lose bun.

  “Ready?” she asked, interrupting his intimate musings.

  “Maybe we should skip the show,” he muttered.

  “Skip your favorite musical? Hmm. What would we possibly do instead?” She crossed the room slowly, well aware of his predatory stare.

  “I can think of an activity I love more than the theater,” he said, running his hands over her smooth, bare shoulders. He leaned down to follow his hands with a trail of soft kisses. He noted with pleasure the goose bumps that accompanied his touch.

  Alma lifted his chin and kissed his lips gently. “I didn’t come all the way to New York to miss Hamilton,” she whispered.

  Dirk groaned to himself and marveled once more at the magnetic attraction she held over him. With a deep, steadying breath, he cleared his throat. “As you wish,” he muttered.

  * * *

  “Wow!” Alma marveled as they walked through the theater lobby, arm in arm. “That was incredible! Those lyrics were so creative and themes wove throughout the music. And-” She stopped talking abruptly.

  The muscles in Dirk’s arm she held had tautened suddenly. A quick glance at his face pronounced the tension in his jaw and the stormy gaze he aimed across the carpeted lobby. She followed his eyes and landed on an unfamiliar man in a tuxedo walking toward them, a sly grin affixed to his pale lips. Two suited men flanked him while a beautiful woman hung on his left arm. As stunning as the woman appeared, she had an unattached air about her.

  “Mr. Travers!” the man greeted brightly.

  “Congressman Johnson,” Dirk replied evenly.

  Alma noticed they didn’t shake hands. Keeping her perplexed reaction in check, she smiled winningly.

  “And this must be Dr. Decker.” The man extended a hand, which Alma shook firmly. “I just finished reading the documents you submitted to Flescher in regard to your home state. Fascinating research, although I did jot down some clarifying questions. Perhaps you’d accept an invitation to my office to address them.”

  “Anything for our environment,” Alma answered despite the twitch that vibrated through her arm. No one more than a hairsbreadth distance from Dirk’s body would have noticed it.

  “Excellent! How wonderful to have run into you so far from home, Mr. Travers! Enjoy your evening.”

  “You, too, sir.” Dirk’s tone evinced none of his tension. Even the fond nod he departed with concealed the contempt he felt boiling his blood. Johnson had just threatened Alma, yet no one but Johnson and Dirk would ever know. By luring Alma to his office, he’d toyed with the threat he’d made against her over a month ago. How he knew Dirk was still pursuing his secrets, he didn’t know.

  The taxi ride back to the hotel was silent, Dirk consumed by his thoughts of Johnson and Alma whilst Alma contemplated his strange reaction to the politician. While Dirk paid the cabby, she started toward the hotel elevator, lyrics of “My Shot” echoing in her memory.

  Dirk caught her elbow. “Drink?” He motioned toward the lobby bar.

  She shrugged and followed him to a corner table near the window.

  “You enjoyed the show?” he asked as if the odd encounter had never occurred.

  Alma accepted his invitation to move on and nodded vigorously. “Yes! What an interesting premise, for one. And for two, it was extremely well done.” She went on to draw him into a discussion regarding the historical accuracy and musical ingenuity involved.

  Dirk seemed transfixed on the conversation, but he was constantly eyeing the busy sidewalk outside. After an hour and two drinks, he relaxed and suggested they retire for the evening. Clearly, no one had followed them from the theater and the train leaving for Boston left early the next morning.

  Alma let down her hair, slipped out of the black dress and showered before donning a hotel robe and joining Dirk on the bed. He was sitting against the headboard, still in slacks and white dress shirt. He’d hung the jacket and tie and discarded the shoes. She cuddled up to him with her head on his chest. Dirk placed an arm around her, inhaling her scent.

  “Are you alright?” she asked quietly, her gaze on the brilliant city lights outside while her thoughts were firmly planted on his curious behavior.

  “Yeah,” he answered in a confident tone.

  “That congressman just seemed to bother you.”

  He shook his head in amazement.

  “What?” she demanded, feeling rather than seeing the motion.

  “You’re the most intuitive woman I’ve ever met.” He could feel her smile against his body.

  “Well?” she asked after a moment of silence.

  “Well what?”

  “Well, what’s with the politician?”

  ‘And persistent, too,’ Dirk thought. “I had a run in with him in regards to work recently. I just don’t like him.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve heard rumors about his potential involvement in…contemptible matters.”

  “Such as…?”

  He frowned, unsure of an honest answer. He settled on a vague one, something she would easily read in the newspaper by an astute reporter. “Possibly terrorist involvement with foreign nations. You won’t accept the invitation to his office, right?”

  Alma took that in, shook her head, and had to agree with Dirk’s apprehensive interaction with the man. She was still fabricating more of a response when she drifted off.

  Dirk sensed the slow, even rise of her chest. He was left to his own dark contemplations.

  * * *

  It had taken three days to arrange a conference with his supervisor. Now Dirk, Christian, and Zach Vasquez sat around a plain, brick office on the edge of Boston’s city proper.

  Christian happened to be in the office when Dirk arrived and he’d invited his colleague to stay and contribute.

  “And you’re involved with this woman?” Vasquez clarified.

  Dirk grimaced. “Yes.”

  Vasquez didn’t need any more evidence than the expression on his secondary’s face to explain
just how involved. He frowned. “And Johnson made an explicit threat against her?”

  “Yes. Twice.”

  “Once when he waylaid you and once in New York?”

  Dirk nodded seriously.

  Vasquez sat back, one hand massaging his goatee, the other tapping absently on the chair arm.

  “I know I-” Dirk started, interpreting his supervisor’s silence as chagrin.

  Vasquez held up a hand to stop his apology. “It’s merely a recommendation that the agency extends to avoid serious relationships. There’s nothing that says it’s forbidden.” He examined the man before him and adopted an advisory tone. “Now you understand why.” He shot a glance at Christian, the younger of the two, as if bestowing him with a lesson to be learned.

  “I’ve considered breaking up with her, building some distance. Maybe Johnson will view her as inconsequential.”

  Vasquez shook his head. “I think it may be too late for that.” The pained expression that crossed Dirk’s face was a stark reminder of the supervisor’s past. He spoke now from sorrowful experience. “I advise staying close to her. You may be her only protection.”

  Dirk welcomed the advice with a mix of relief and dread.

  “How close are you to wrapping up affairs with Johnson?”

  “Close,” he answered anxiously. “After he pegged me, I called on some trusted informers.”

  “You don’t think he’s identified them?” Christian asked.

  Dirk shook his head confidently. “There are too many of them.” The men and women he’d called on were a variety of vagabonds he’d encountered throughout his career. By treating them fairly and paying for their services, he’d created a web of informants that were nearly undetectable. A common practice in his travels, Dirk had a similar retinue in several cities. “I just need a week or two more to compile evidence. I’m confident of an arrest following my deposition.”

  Vasquez nodded slowly, this time in approval. “I would stay close to your inamorata until then, and perhaps even after. Who knows how far Johnson’s tentacles reach?”

  “Thank you,” Dirk said sincerely.

  Vasquez nodded as he checked his watch. “I’ve got an appointment in D.C.” He got to his feet and placed a hand on Dirk’s shoulder as he passed, as if to say, “I understand.”

  Dirk wondered only briefly at the gesture. Vasquez had been in this line of work for decades. He had no doubt the man had encountered more than his share of curious and difficult situations.

  “You okay, man?” Christian asked.

  Dirk nodded slowly. “Yeah. Now that I have a direction to go, I’m fine. You?”

  Christian copied the slow nod. “Yeah. I got the drop on my target last week.”

  He examined his associate closely. He knew from experience that a near death occasion hung in the psyche for a while.

  “Really, Dirk. I’m okay,” Christian assured him. “Let me know if you need any help. Alma’s a great lady. I don’t want to see anything happen to her.”

  He shot the younger man an appreciative nod and left the office.

  Chapter 11

  Dirk’s absence in the days following their foray to New York didn’t faze Alma. She’d embraced his sporadic communication and wasn’t surprised at his withdrawal after the unusual confrontation with Congressman Johnson. The brief research she conducted into the politician confirmed Dirk’s supposition of potentially un-American associations.

  It was with surprise and pleasure she found him waiting outside the marine biology lecture building on Thursday evening.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” he greeted jovially with a kiss to her cheek.

  Alma laughed lightly and took his hand. They walked over Boston University Bridge before she asked, “Everything alright?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Of course.” The answer was so offhand that she wondered if he even remembered the odd tense moment over the weekend. “Dinner?”

  “Something light?” she suggested. “We had a pre-finals potluck at work. I’m still stuffed.”

  Dirk agreed and they ducked into a bistro.

  Alma ordered an oriental salad and glanced over her menu at Dirk. His menu was on the tabletop and his eyes darted around the intimate restaurant. The doorbells tingled while the waitress waited for Dirk.

  “Sir?”

  “A BLT, please,” he ordered distractedly.

  The young woman rolled her eyes and retreated to the kitchen.

  Alma glanced over her shoulder to see an unfamiliar man in jeans and a black trench coat sit at a table against the far wall. His appearance was nondescript.

  “Do you want to get dinner to go?” Dirk asked suddenly.

  “Um, sure,” she answered uncertainly. Her brows furrowed as he waved the waitress back. Another surly roll of the eyes greeted his gesture. In ten minutes, they were back on the sidewalk, a bag of to-go boxes in Dirk’s hand.

  Alma noted the firm grip on her hand briefly before he was asking about her day at work.

  * * *

  After a quick breakfast of toast and peanut butter, the couple walked to the Lighthouse Café to indulge their morning coffee ritual. Then Dirk accompanied Alma to campus, released her with a sultry kiss and promises of meeting after work, and went home to work on his formal report.

  Trying to avoid becoming overbearing and suspicious, he opted for discreetly following Alma from campus that evening. He wanted to be certain she was safe and was more than conscious of her concern over his behavior of late. Avoiding being seen until he buzzed at her apartment twenty minutes after her arrival served two purposes: first, he would avoid her surprise at his sudden barnacle-like attachment and second, he’d know if anyone else was tailing her.

  Satisfied she hadn’t been followed, he buzzed up to her apartment. The front door lock released and he climbed the stairs. The apartment door was ajar and he entered with a frown. Alma was at the stove heating a pot of boiling water. She sensed his arrival and threw a warm smile over her shoulder.

  “Maybe you should consider keeping your door closed and locked,” he suggested off-hand. “Never know what riff-raff might slip in.”

  She laughed at the humorous reference to himself and turned to kiss him. “Maybe I like riff-raff,” she teased and turned back to the stove. “But now that you mention it, I think I will be more careful.”

  Sensing something more behind the statement, Dirk hung his light jacket and went to lean on the counter beside her, his brow curved in an interested furrow.

  “There was this idiot today who tried to audit my Marine Environments class. Today was the final, so I got them started and went back to the guy’s seat and told him to try again next semester, maybe before finals.”

  The hair on Dirk’s arms tingled uncomfortably as she described how the man had silently risen and exited the classroom.

  “So when I finished up my last class for the day, I headed for my office and that guy was standing outside!” While she spoke, she stirred pasta noodles into the water. “I asked if I could help him.”

  “What did he say?” Dirk asked in what he hoped was a casual voice.

  “He asked if we could talk in my office, but I told him I was busy with papers to grade and research articles of my own to finish, which was true. But the real reason I didn’t want to let him in is because he gave me the creeps!”

  “Your instinct was probably right,” he said in a low voice.

  “You have no idea! When I went to open my office, he pinned me to the door!”

  Dirk’s stomach reeled suddenly and he crossed his arms to keep from physically reacting. “What did you do?” He had to give her credit for the cavalier attitude with which she told the story.

  Alma shrugged. “I kneed him in the crotch like any self-respecting woman.”

  He was taken aback by the casual answer and blinked several times, struggling with a response.

  “You seem surprised,” she noted as she popped open a jar of spaghetti sauce to dump it in a smaller pan.<
br />
  “I am a bit, I’ll admit.”

  She shrugged again. “I’ve lived alone in a big city long enough to have learned how to protect myself.”

  While Dirk knew that a swift kick to the crotch wasn’t always the answer, he had to admit that it was certainly an effective measure. “You’ve learned well, apparently!” he laughed. A measured amount of relief rolled over him. He was pleased at her ability to defend herself. But the uncomfortable pit in his stomach was still there. He was positive the man had been Johnson’s lackey, the same man who’d held a gun to his head weeks before and followed them to dinner the previous night. He doubted an ache in the genitals would dissuade the bête noire and he’d probably be more aggressive in his next attack. Dirk decided in that moment to push his investigation and submit a report as soon as possible. Congressman Johnson’s arrest may not entirely solve the problem, but it would at least remove a pawn from the game.

  * * *

  Dirk was awake the next morning when Alma quietly slipped from bed, but he remained snuggled under the covers, enveloped in the scent of her. Each inhale reminded him of the passionate night they’d shared. After considering her harrowing story that ended in stoic self-preservation, he felt a wave of desire sweep over him that washed any thoughts of dinner from mind and drove them both to the bedroom where the remainder of the night was spent wrapped in each other’s embrace.

  It was another thirty minutes before he convinced himself to leave the confines of the blissful bedroom. The scent of coffee filled the rest of the apartment, but rather than cross directly to the energy-provisioned nectar, he stopped behind the couch to lean down, brush soft locks out of the way, and plant a gentle kiss on Alma’s neck.

  The sensation sent a series of pleasurable chills across her skin and brought a smile to her lips.

  “What are you working on over there?” Dirk asked after he’d filled a mug. He leaned back on the counter to sip the dark liquid.

  Alma glanced distractedly at him standing there in jeans, shirtless and sockless. Her mind flashed to the delightful feel of those muscles under her roaming hands and she cleared her throat. “Travel plans.”