Loaded

by Joanna Wayne

  "Just let me look at you," he whispered as he fit his hands beneath the waistband of her silky thong panties and pulled them over her hips and down her legs.

  He stretched out beside her, rising on one elbow so he could watch her reactions as he trailed the fingers of his right hand around her breasts and down the smooth flesh of her stomach. He traced it again, this time letting his fingers slide between her thighs and his thumbs skim the opening to her most intimate crevice.

  But she wanted more. She wanted to see and feel him, all of him, without the black tuxedo slacks that he'd looked so devilishly handsome in when the night had first started. She needed to memorize every plane and angle of his face and body so that she could pull them up in a million dreams.

  "Your turn to lay back and my turn to undress you," she murmured.

  "A man lives for moments like this."

  "So does a woman." She hadn't before, but only because she'd never imagined anything could feel this way. She undid the button and zipper and fit her hands beneath the waistband of his trousers and boxers. He made it easy for her, lifting his hips so that the pants would slide past them. She yanked the pants and boxers from his feet and tossed them to the floor.

  They were both naked now, lying side by side, the peaks of her nipples brushing his chest. He fit his leg between her thighs, opening her so that the could dip his finger inside her. She ran hot at the gentle thrusts, bathing his finger in her hot juices.

  "I can't wait much longer."

  She fit her hand around his erection. It was long and hard and pulsing with need. "You don't have to wait. I'm more than ready."

  "Should I use protection or are you on the pill?"

  "Protection."

  He reached in the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out what he needed. "Don't get the wrong idea," he said. "The ones I had were laced with cobwebs. These were optimistically bought with you in mind."

  "I didn't ask." But she had wondered. The nature of a woman.

  Seconds later he raised over her, and this time she spread her legs on her own. He pushed inside her, a quick thrust that set her on fire. She buried her face in the smooth flesh of his shoulder as he thrust over and over, his momentum a growing crescendo.

  She'd needed this so badly. Needed Matt with all his strength and all his virility. Needed him now so much her fingers were digging into his back as she thrust against him. She wanted nothing to separate them, not even air. This had to last a lifetime.

  Matt thrust again and she cried out as they reached orgasm together, the thrill of it stealing her breath. They held on tight, clinging until the afterglow had taken full hold of them.

  "I love you, Shelly. And don't say it back. Not until you're ready. But I've never felt like saying that to a woman before, and I needed to get it out before it exploded inside me."

  Tears burned the backs of her eyes. She should have told him the truth. She should have never let things go this far. Should have never let him say T love you.'"

  "We need to talk, Matt."

  "No. I don't want to hear what's causing that strain in your voice. Not tonight."

  He was right. They shouldn't tarnish this moment. The bitter truth could wait until morning. She cuddled back in his arms and closed her eyes, though she knew she wouldn't sleep.

  "I love you, too, Matt. More than you'll ever know. No matter what happens, remember that."

  * * *

  "We have to talk."

  Matt reached for Shelly and pulled her back in his arms. "Didn't anyone ever tell you those are the four words a man dreads hearing most from his woman?"

  But he couldn't begin to understand the dread that had settled in her heart. He'd said he loved her. Love was supposed to conquer all. It did in songs and movies. It never had in her mother's life. Maybe that's why Shelly had so little faith that it could work this time in hers.

  She pulled away from him and slid her legs over the side of the bed. She was wearing his robe. He was still naked, the bulge beneath the sheet making it obvious he was ready to make love again. She tried to convince herself that he still would be when she was finished.

  "This isn't easy for me, Matt, but I have to get it out."

  "I don't want to—"

  "I'm not who you think I am. I'm not Shelly Lane." There she'd blurted it out and there was no way around it now.

  He pushed up on his elbows. "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm an undercover agent for the CIA."

  He winced as if she'd slapped him. "Keep talking."

  She did, but nothing came out right. "The allegations affected national security, Matt. And the evidence was overwhelming. I was doing what my job called for. We've stopped any number of terrorist attacks by gathering this type of information. We've saved lives."

  He didn't say a word, but after five minutes of listening to her futile attempts to redeem herself, he turned his back on her and scooted off the other side of the bed.

  "I haven't given the CIA anything to use against you," she insisted, desperate now to make him understand. "In fact, I've stressed to my supervisor that none of you could possibly be guilty. After last night's incident, the agency will have to see that I'm right and that Melvin was behind all of this."

  He grabbed a pair of jeans from the closet and yanked them on.

  "Say something, Matt. Anything. Just don't clam up on me like this."

  "What is there to say?" He pulled on a pair of socks from the top dresser drawer. "I don't even know who you are."

  "You said that you loved me."

  He sat back down on the bed just long enough to shove his feet into a pair of boots. "The keys are in the truck. You can go to the house and pack your things while the family's at church. Be off the ranch before they get back."

  "If that's how you want it."

  "Feel free to take the truck into town or to the airport. Hell, just take the truck. Payment for your physical-therapy services." He turned and walked away without looking back.

  Shelly wrapped her arms around her chest as if that could hold her together. Her heart felt as it someone had squeezed it to mush and left it to rot inside her chest. She'd known all along it would come to this, had told herself that falling in love with Matt could never work—that it would end up tearing her apart.

  But how could she not have loved Matt Collingsworth?

  * * *

  Shelly placed the call to Brady Owens and explained about Melvin and the abduction. He was shocked and admitted that he hadn't heard a word from Ben Hartmann. Not surprising, since Ben was likely still asleep at ten o'clock on Sunday morning.

  Brady was convinced that Ben would never have revealed her identity. She didn't see any other way Melvin could have found out who she was. But the most important development was that Brady would call off the arrests and start his investigation over based on the new information.

  All in a day's work for the CIA.

  "I owe you an apology," Brady said once the bulk of the conversation was concluded. "You were dead on with everything, even your suspicions about Melvin Rogers. I dare say there's more to that than we've uncovered."

  "I agree, though I can't even imagine why he'd hate a family who did so much for him."

  "Money, a woman or revenge. It always boils down to one of those."

  "He didn't keep the money for himself," Shelly said. "That rules out greed."

  "So if there's not a woman, that leaves revenge. At any rate, I'd still like to see you in the office Monday morning for a debriefing. And I plan to recommend you for a promotion."

  "There's a problem with that."

  "The debriefing?"

  "No, sir. I can make that. Then I plan to tender my resignation."

  "This wouldn't have anything to do with Matt Collingsworth, would it?"

  "No, sir." Because Matt Collingsworth was having nothing to do with her. "I just don't think I'm cut out for this line of work."

  "What will you do?"

  "I'd like to spend som
e time with my mother and see if we can reconnect." She hadn't fully decided that until the words came out of her mouth, but it was what she wanted to do.

  They might never have the perfect mother-daughter relationship, certainly nothing like Lenora had with her children, but she was still Shelly's mother. Shelly should make a stab at understanding her.

  "I don't suppose there's anything I can say to change your mind about leaving?"

  "No, sir."

  "We made a mistake, but we're not the bad guys, Shelly."

  "I know. Keeping America safe is one of the most important careers going. It's just not for me."

  "We'll talk more Monday."

  They'd talk, but her mind was made up. She'd found something here on Jack's Bluff that she wanted and it had nothing to do with the wealth or the prestige. It was family—and love. She'd never get a chance to have that with Matt, but if she was lucky, she'd find it with someone else some day.

  That is if she ever got over loving Matt.

  * * *

  The Collingsworths had it all—wealth, influence, family. They did as they pleased, used whomever they pleased, rewarded people only if it suited their purposes. No one knew that better than Melvin Rogers.

  Jeremiah Collingsworth had used his mother and then thrown her out as if she were trash under his feet. He'd been all too willing to break his marriage vows while his wife lay dying, but it had been Melvin's mother who'd paid. Melvin might never have known it had he not found and read her diary after she died.

  Jeremiah could have married Melvin's mother after his own wife died. Then she'd have never turned to the cruel bastard who'd fathered Melvin. Neither her life nor Melvin's would have been the living hell with him it had become. Melvin would have been Jeremiah's son just as his mother had died believing. He'd be a flesh and blood Collingsworth and not the friend who could sit at the table but never share the name.

  Not that it would matter now. Even after he'd worked out everything to the most minute detail, the CIA wouldn't play into his hands. Too bad, especially after he'd figured out so quickly who Ben Hartmann was and had fed him information that would have insured the Collingsworths conviction.

  He'd even learned from bugging Ben's apartment that Shelly Lane was CIA. If Frankie Dawson had done what he'd been paid to do, they would have never reached this point. She'd have been dead before she had a chance to be seduced by Matt and the rest of the Collingsworths.

  Nonetheless, the Collingsworth dynasty was about to come to an end. Melvin's revenge would be sweet. And deadly. And soon.

  No one could stop him now.

  * * *

  Shelly had waited until she was certain everyone had left for church before driving back to the big house for her things. The thought of facing any of the family with the truth when her heart was in shambles was more than she could deal with. Luckily, no one had skipped the worship service this morning. They had too much to be thankful for.

  The traditional Sunday brunch would be a major celebration. Zach and Kali were home from their honeymoon and they were all well on their way to having proof that Melvin had framed them.

  The only thing they were losing was a physical therapist who Jeremiah didn't want anyway. And once they'd talked to Matt, they'd feel the same loathing for her that he did.

  Luckily she'd managed to get tickets for a four o'clock flight from Houston to Dulles. An airport service was sending a car to the gates of Jack's Bluff Ranch. She'd wait there, parked in Matt's truck, out of sight in case her transportation didn't arrive before they returned.

  She trudged down the steps from her former guest suite, lugging her two suitcases. Her handbag and carrying case were slung over her left shoulder. The muscles in her wounded right arm were acting out today, a painful reminder of last night's rough and tumble treatment. The least of her present concerns.

  She looked back at the house only once as she drove away. She didn't need reminders. The memories of the house and the Collingsworth family were firmly planted in her mind.

  Choosing a protected spot just off the road and beneath a cluster of pine trees, she parked the truck and waited. And waited. And waited. At ten before twelve, she called the car service. They'd been held up behind a six-car pileup on Interstate 45, but they were moving now and should be there shortly.

  The Collingsworth convoy began driving in at twelve. No one noticed Matt's truck or her. At twelve-forty, her ride had still not arrived. The family would be gathered at the huge dining room table by now.

  One of the brothers would say grace. Maybe Matt. Jeremiah would be banging his cane for someone to pass the biscuits. Lenora would be bustling around making sure the serving dishes were full. The twins would be plotting mischief. Trish would be eating for two.

  Put it behind you, ex-CIA lady, before you start boohoo-ing all over your travel clothes.

  Two blasts of a honk snapped her back to her senses. Her ride had arrived. She climbed out of the truck and was struggling with her bags when a motorbike flew down the ranch road, skidding to a stop at the gate.

  Melvin Rogers. She stared in shock. This should have been the last place he'd show up. He surely knew by now that she'd lived through his paid attempt on her life.

  There was no sign he saw her while he waited for the gate to open, but she got a good look at him. He was in ratty jeans and an old T-shirt, unquestionably not Collingsworth Sunday-brunch attire.

  The gate opened and he swerved through it, passing her waiting ride and roaring away. She picked up her bags and hurried toward the gate. But even as she stepped across the rattling cattle gate, she couldn't shake Melvin from her mind.

  What could have possibly drawn him back here when he knew everyone was gathered and that he was a wanted man.

  Revenge.

  Brady's word came back to haunt her. But revenge for what? It wasn't as if he were a bastard brother or the black sheep of the family. He was just a guy Jeremiah had brought into the fold and given a great job to.

  The driver stored her bags and opened the door for her. "Is it just you?"

  "Just me," she said.

  "Where to?"

  "IAH."

  "What time's your flight?"

  "Not for hours."

  "Good thing you gave yourself plenty of time or you'd never have made it. There was a hell of a wreck on I-45. Gas tank on an eighteen-wheeler caught fire in the crash, and before the fireman could get it put out, the whole truck blew like a fire in a fireworks plant. I'm sure it's still smoking. You'll be able to see it when we go by on the other side of the interstate."

  Explosions everywhere. Frankie Dawson, known for his explosive prowess. Hired to get rid of her. And Melvin, kicked out of school for threatening to blow the houses of his friends. For revenge? For not being included when he thought he should have been?

  Oh, God. That was it. Melvin was almost family, but not quite, because Jeremiah had an indiscretion that he'd never forgiven himself for. With the nurse he'd fired, leaving him to take care of his ailing wife on his own. But the nurse wasn't Ellen, or Helen or Helene. It was Ellie. Ellie Mellinger Rogers.

  Melvin's plan to frame the Collingsworth family hadn't worked, but he had an ace in the hole. He'd come back to the ranch this morning to blow them to smithereens.

  He was going to prison anyway. He had to know that. He had nothing more to lose and this was his last chance for revenge.

  "Turn around. Take me back to the ranch."

  The driver looked at her image through his rearview mirror. "What'd you forget?"

  "Nothing, but hurry. As fast as you can."

  "You sound as if this is life or death."

  "It could be." She tried to get Matt on his cell phone. It rang, but he didn't answer. Neither did the phone at the big house. They always let the answering machine pick up during meals.

  "Should I wait?" The driver asked as she jumped out of the car.

  "No." She used Matt's code to open the gate and raced toward his truck.

 
"What about your luggage?" the driver called after her.

  "Toss it out. I'll get it later." She jumped in the truck, started the engine and yanked the gearshift into Reverse.

  Bombing the house was unbelievably bizarre, but it made sense in a crazy way. Melvin's devastating and unrequitedly evil attempts to destroy the Collingsworths. His familiarity with explosives and the people who could provide them. His returning to the house today when he was likely bucking for the top of the Texas most-wanted list.

  Matt's family would think she was insane. Maybe she was, but if she was right about this, the big house at Jack's Bluff was on the verge of exploding with all the family inside.

  The ultimate revenge of a brilliant madman.

  Panic roared through her veins as she pushed the truck to its limits, almost turning it over at the last sharp turn. She threw on the brakes practically at the front steps and jumped from the truck. She started yelling the second she pushed through the front door.

  "Everybody out of the house! Now! I'll explain later, but you have to hurry. Please, hurry!"

  Langston was the first to reach her. "What is it, Shelly?"

  "I just saw Melvin speeding away from the ranch. I think he may have planted a bomb. I think the house may be about to explode."

  To her surprise, he took her words at face value. He raced back to the dining room with her a step behind.

  "There's an emergency," he said, his voice calmer than hers had been, though his tone left no room for argument. "Everyone clear out of the house at once. Stay together and head for the stable. Now!"

  Trish grabbed her daughter's arm. "Let's go, Gina. Do what Daddy says." But Trish was eight months pregnant and moving too slowly. Langston picked her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her out of the house. Gina, Becky and the twins followed.

  Shelly scanned the room. "Where's Matt?"

  "He didn't show up for brunch," Lenora said, fear pum-meling her voice as she herded her family out of danger. "We thought he was with you."

  Jeremiah started banging his cane. "What's the dadburn commotion about?"

  "A fire drill, Grandpa. Now stop your bellowing." Bart scooped the old man out of his chair, threw him over his shoulder and carried him out. Jaclyn was right by his side.