by Dana Marton
Except when they pushed her to throw herself into his arms. She looked away from him, not wanting him to read her pitiful reaction in her eyes.
“I’m going to reinforce the rain spouts. Then, if you have no other choice, you can go upstairs and climb down without breaking your neck.”
“I can break my neck even if the rain spout doesn’t give out under me. I’m not a circus acrobat. What if I slip?”
He closed his eyes for a second. “All right. If at all possible, go for the basement.” He reached into his pocket and gave her a set of car keys.
“What are these for?”
“I got a rental today. It’s parked in front of 212 Summer Lane. You run out the basement door, cross the back neighbors’ yard. It’s a black Mustang. There’s some money and a backup gun in the glove compartment. If all else fails, you get in and drive away. Tank is full. It has GPS. Just drive and be safe.”
“And you?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
Tension filled the air between them as they stared at each other. Her gaze dipped to his masculine lips. She wanted him to kiss her again. She wrote that down to post-fight adrenaline rush, because she didn't want to think about the alternative, that she wanted and liked him for real. She so wasn't in a place in her life where she could contemplate a relationship. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“We’re going up against a master hit man. We’re going to get hurt. Our best case scenario is just not to be dead when this is over.”
She went cold. Drew back. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this. I can just leave. I’m good at running. I’m a hell of a lot better at running than I am at fighting.”
“If all goes well, you won’t have to fight. I’ll fight for you. We discussed this already. It's the only way you’ll ever be free. Ending the chase here and now is your best chance. You have a partner this time, someone who’s been trained both as a cop and a soldier. And we know Asael is here, that he’s coming. He's lost the element of surprise.”
He moved closer and took her hand. “If you want to be free…I’m pretty sure it’s one of those now or never things. We’ll set the trap for the day after tomorrow. I don’t want to wait too long, or he might make his move when we’re not expecting him.”
She nodded.
“We’ll make a show of me leaving,” he said. “But I’ll circle back and come in through the back door. When he comes, I’ll engage him. You go call for help. If he gets through me, you run for your life. But it’s not going to happen. I’m going to handle him.”
He stood then reached out to pull her to her feet.
She hesitated a moment before she asked, “How is your shoulder?”
“What shoulder?”
“You still favor your right side.”
“I can use my left arm.” He reached up with his left and put a hand under her chin, tilting her face to him. Then he lowered his head to hers and kissed her.
Everything went still inside her as his warm lips touched hers. Sweet chocolate mocha mousse saints. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this, a man’s arms around her, his dark gaze boring into hers with scorching heat. And, boy, could Murph Dolan fix a girl with a look that sent tingles all the way down to her toes.
He smelled like man, tasted like coffee and felt like heaven.
Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she gave herself to the sensation of being pressed against his hard chest while his mouth explored hers gently, teasing her, tasting her. His great warrior body vibrated with restrained need, but he didn’t rush the kiss.
He brushed his lips over hers in agonizingly slow motion, covering every nook and cranny, then catching her bottom lip between his teeth for a minute before he swept inside and tasted her fully, making her weak in the knees.
He gathered her against him tightly, chest to chest, hip to hip. She wouldn’t have minded staying there forever.
“I wanted to do this from the moment I saw you sleeping in my bed,” he murmured against her mouth.
“I just wanted to shoot you,” she said the first thing that popped into her dazed mind.
He laughed as he stepped back. “That’s a very healthy survival instinct. We’re going to develop more of that in what little time we’ll be given.”
And then he attacked her.
* * *
He had to go back to the fighting before he did something stupid like scoop her up and carry her off into the bedroom. The thought that she was sleeping in his bed teased Murph every night, leaving him tossing and turning on the couch.
“Come on, like you mean it. Like you just caught me raiding your chocolate stash,” he egged her on, knowing they didn’t have nearly enough time for her to receive the training she needed.
She tried to punch him in the nose, missed and punched him in the mouth. Definitely not a trained fighter, but she was quick, and stronger than she looked. She was so bad with the fighting, she was unpredictable, really, never doing what someone more seasoned would do. Which could work in her favor.
“If I’m out of commission for some reason, and you’re out of bullets,” he said, “then deflect and retreat, deflect and retreat. The mission objective changes to escape and evasion at that point. You’re not going to take him out in hand-to-hand combat.”
She did as he told her. When he moved in to grab her, she deflected his hands with a couple of well-aimed chops then retreated. Then tripped on the rug in the back hallway, teetered backwards, over corrected and ended up falling forward into his arms.
Note to self: remove all area rugs.
She stared up at him with her sparkling sky eyes.
He wanted to kiss her again. His body hummed with lust. Touching her did things to him, but he couldn't very well train her without touching. He wanted to kiss her and not stop this time. He wanted to go way past kissing. He wanted those longs legs of hers wrapped around his waist. He wanted to be so deep inside her tight heat--
He clenched his jaw.
Not yet.
When she was safe.
Chapter Nine
Murph was going to kiss her again. Kate wanted him to.
He dipped his head toward hers, but then he pulled up the last second before they could touch lip to lip. “We better start dinner,” he whispered into her hair.
That was what romance novels meant when they mentioned strangled whisper, she thought, her entire body alive and buzzing.
She took a reluctant step back. Then another, toward the kitchen. He was right. She needed a break from training, from the overwhelming sexual tension between them that was messing with her head. “I'll make a couple of Philly cheese steaks,” she said as the gears in her brain began turning again. “I brought fresh rolls home from the diner. They were baked just before I left.”
He gave her a smile as if she were an angel come to earth. “You could turn a man’s head just with your cooking. You fix the cheese steaks, and I’ll go and work on reinforcing the rain spouts. Since there’s ice hanging off the gutters, it shouldn’t look suspicious if I go out there with a ladder and start cleaning up a little.”
The idea of her climbing out an upstairs window and gliding down the drainpipe to the ground made her queasy, so she turned to the kitchen to occupy herself with things she could actually handle.
She began chopping the onions while Murph shrugged into his coat and stepped into black police boots. He was out the door by the time she remembered that it might be difficult for him to climb the ladder while carrying tools, then try to work—all that with only one good shoulder.
She sautéed the onions, then set them aside and dropped the razor thin slices of frozen beef into the pan while trying to decide if she should go and help him. Probably not. He’d resent it. He wore his can-do army attitude like an armor. He certainly wasn’t afraid of anything.
She was plenty scared for the both of them. As he’d said, there was a good chance for one or both of them getting hurt here. She was a target. She’d lived with that for eig
hteen months now. But she didn’t want him hurt because, honestly, this had nothing to do with him. Asael wasn’t his problem. And she worried also because she cared about Murph.
That admission knocked her back a step. She stirred the beef, maybe a little more forcefully than she had to.
She wasn’t the type to fall in love in the blink of an eye. She wasn’t the type to fall in love at all. In all her previous relationships, she always held back, took forever to trust, then was never able to give herself fully. Never. She'd always held part of herself back, so she had never hurt when the time came to walk away from a relationship.
She could definitely not be falling in love in the middle of all this mess.
No, she decided. She was just confused. All the pressure and danger were messing with her head.
So while they ate dinner, sitting across the table from each other, she kept her mental distance as best she could. And when he looked at her, really looked at her—God the man knew how to look at a woman with his dark chocolate eyes so she felt it all the way down to her toes—she looked away.
Keeping aloof was more difficult once they were at the indoor shooting range where he drove her after they ate. The butterflies in her stomach were having a ball as she tried to aim at the bullseye, doing her best to ignore his firm chest pressed against her back, his muscular arms around her as he showed her how to properly handle her weapon.
Since they were touching again, she was all tingly and distracted. Being surrounded by him felt amazing. He even smelled like a warrior, his masculine scent mixing with the smell of metal and gunpowder.
“Good,” he yelled to be heard over all the shots going off around them.
About a dozen other people were using the range, all focused on their own business.
She ignored them and lined up her sights, both hands on the gun. When she squeezed the trigger, his support helped her arms absorb the weapon’s kick.
He pulled back, giving her space to do it again and again.
Then they waited until the pulley brought the target up to them, the black outline of the upper body of a man with circles painted on him. Nerves grabbed hold of her suddenly. She wanted to do well. This was important.
“Not bad.” Murph smiled, and she was ridiculously pleased by the impressed look on his face. “Actually, pretty good for an amateur.”
The holes grouped roughly in the middle. He gave her some tips, then made her practice for another hour.
Kate was mentally exhausted by the time they got home.
Murph disarmed the security system, but when she reached for the light switch, he put a hand over hers.
“Now we learn the house blind.”
He made her walk through, note the fire extinguisher, the broom, the kitchen knives, the reading lamps that were heavy enough to hit with, all the spots where his guns were hidden throughout the house. Then he made her walk through faster. Then he made her run, in the dark, up and down the stairs, dashing around doorways.
Who needed Asael? The training was going to kill her, she thought as she gasped for air.
And then Murph attacked her.
He knocked her back, taking her by surprise. She fought like hell, punched, kicked, bit—or tried to. He twisted away from her, but her next punch landed. And she realized the dark gave her some advantage: since he couldn’t see her, he couldn’t fully anticipate her.
Somehow, by some miracle, she managed to trip him. As he stumbled back, she plowed head down into his solar plexus. They ended up on the floor, with her on top, straddling him the next second. She twisted and fought to keep control, refusing to let him buck her off.
And then suddenly she felt something hard between her legs that wasn’t his weapon.
They both stilled.
The next second he flipped her, as if she weighed nothing, and in one smooth move rolled her under him.
He kept his weight off her for the most part, pinning her down with his hands, his powerful thigh thrown across her legs.
Desire shot through her like lightning. Need clamored for fulfillment. She wanted this. She wanted more. God, it’d been a long time. Forever.
And never with anyone who affected her like Murph did.
A small sound escaped her throat, a moan of pure need.
He swore softly, then his lips were on hers. He tasted her as if she was made of the finest Swiss chocolate.
The man was thorough in everything he did. First her training, and now her ravishing.
His mouth was a lethal weapon as he teased her, tortured her, brought her to capitulation. She was close to begging by the time he finally deepened the kiss. And then he took his time conquering her tongue, her mouth, her soul.
She slipped her hands under his shirt and her fingers had a field day on his back, exploring shifting muscles, and his warm, smooth skin.
His mouth left hers but, before she could protest, his seeking lips found the curve of her neck. His five-o'clock shadow scraped against her sensitized skin, leaving nerve endings tingling in its wake. His left hand tightened on her hip, then his grip loosened as his palm traveled up until his long fingers covered her breast.
Holy mocha truffles.
She arched into his caresses.
Then he shifted and tugged and her shirt disappeared. Urgent kisses outlined her bra; hot lips looked for entry. He found it pretty fast, peeling the bra down.
When he sucked her nipple into his mouth, moisture gathered between her thighs. Her eyes fluttered closed as exquisite sensations skittered through her. Her entire body buzzed by the time he moved on to the other nipple.
And when he tortured that into a throbbing nub of pleasure, he moved lower.
She was ready for him, barely hearing the front door rattle.
He did. He stiffened—beyond the part that was already Olympic gold-medal stiff—and raised his head.
“Yoo-hoo! I saw you come home,” Wendy White, the new neighbor shouted through the door. “I brought over some cookies.”
Kate groaned as frustration washed over her.
Murph lay his head on her belly, breathing hard, holding on to her tightly. “What are we doing here?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.
“If I have to draw a map....” she joked weakly.
He held her for another moment before he rolled off her with a groan, and she scrambled up on shaky legs, looking for her clothes in the dark so she could go and deal with the neighbor. Wendy wanted to stay and chat, and insisted on them listening to the CD she'd copied for Kate, her nephew who was a new pop singer sure to be the next big thing.
* * *
Friday morning brought new snow and plenty of cold. Nobody strayed outside unless in a well-heated car, the sidewalks empty. Murph took Kate to work, trying to keep his distance. He couldn’t let his guard down again like he had the night before. Her life depended on him keeping vigilant, not getting distracted.
She hadn’t brought up his lapse of judgment, and no way was he going to approach the subject. He couldn’t talk sex with Kate. Not without wanting to do it.
After the neighbor had left, he'd taken a long cold shower then gone to bed. Not that he'd slept much. But at least he'd kept his hands off Kate, which was an accomplishment.
In the morning he'd stayed outside, shoveling, while she got dressed. During the short drive to work, he'd made her list all the hiding places for the guns in the house, all the ways she could escape, made her show him that she had the Kevlar on, her gun in her purse, the keys to the Mustang in her pocket.
He took the time to have some coffee at the diner, check out her workplace and the people who surrounded her during the day. He watched every guy who came near her, but he didn’t see any customers act suspiciously.
Then he hung out in the back parking lot until Jimmy came out for a smoke and shot the breeze with him, not that the kid was a big talker. He puffed his cigarette to the filter as fast as he could, grousing about the weather, then hurried back to work.
The kid was
n't putting out any murderous vibes, as far as Murph could tell.
When he left the diner, he drove to Arnie's Gas Station and the mechanic shop attached to the back. He usually took his truck to Billy Pickett who needed the money to support a big family depending him, or Al Shoemaker who worked out of his own garage at home to supplement his small pension.
Murph pulled up to the nearest pump to fill his car, washed the windows, taking his time so he could catch a glimpse of Fred Kazincky. Older guy. Greasy overalls. He seemed to know his way under the hood, worked hard and didn’t lollygag around like some of the younger mechanics did.
According to Kate, he was shorter than Asael, and couldn't have been in the dark sedan that had followed her, so Murph didn't spend a lot of time on him.
Before he headed home, he called Kate. “I want you to give me a ring if Antonio comes in.”
“He’s not Asael.”
“Call me anyway.”
Hearing her voice brought last night to mind, and he was hot and bothered all over again by the time he reached the house. He decided to work off his frustrations.
By noon the place was as fortified as Murph could make it without installing bulletproof windows and a machine-gun nest on the roof. Among other things, he’d reframed the laundry chute that went from the upstairs bathroom to the laundry room downstairs. It wasn’t wide enough for him, but Kate could drop down without trouble if she got trapped upstairs. That route would be safer than her negotiating the rain spout outside.
Satisfied with the new security measures, he drove to the station for another look at the law enforcement databases. Everybody was in. Must have been a slow day for crime in Broslin.
“I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee for you.” Leila fussed over him.
Bing came out of his office. “Everything all right?”
“Just want to check on something. Mind if I sign on to the computer?”