Hard Target

by Tibby Armstrong

  Alex gave him her best puppy-dog face.

  “There are menus in the kitchen.” He tapped the all but empty container to loosen a couple noodles. “There wasn’t much left. Why don’t we get more?”

  “Not much left?” Günter, mouth agape, turned toward Simon. “’Course not. Not after you hoovered both containers.”

  Waving one hand in a dismissive gesture, Alex went to the kitchen where she found the takeout menu. Five minutes later she had an order of vegetable chow mein, egg drop soup, scallion pancakes and honey-glazed walnuts on the way. Plus four fortune cookies and a pot of green tea.

  “The doorman will pay for the order,” Günter told her when she returned to the open-concept living and dining area that served as their offices. “Then I’ll go down to get it.”

  “You don’t allow any outsiders up here?”

  The blond fall of Gun’s hair brushed against his shoulders as he shook his head. “As a rule? No.”

  Wondering why she’d been allowed past the iron curtain, Alex pretended interest in a dead drop that looked like a piece of dog poo. “Creative. Nobody’d go near that thing with anything other than a shovel and gallon of bleach.”

  “That’s what I said.” Simon gave Günter and an I told you so grin.

  He seemed so at home here. More relaxed than all the time they spent together so far. Alex removed a pile of fiber optic cable and a roll of Velcro from a chair and sat at the table with Simon. He looked at his carton, saw its empty state, and relaxed once more.

  She took in the disarray. “What were you doing besides eating your weight in noodles before I got here?”

  Günter stepped over a bundle of climbing rope and harnesses to join Alex and Simon at the table. Rolling his chair a few feet to stretch out his legs, Günter laced his fingers behind his head.

  “Some of that rope there tangled with the spare fiber optics we had. The knotted ends fell behind the drawers and wouldn’t come out. We had to remove all of the drawers to get at it.”

  “What’d you need the rope for?”

  “You,” Simon replied.

  Her belly gave an unexpected tug. “Me?”

  She swiveled slowly to face Simon and caught the glint in his eyes. Her tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip. Simon shifted his hips and adjusted the crotch of his jeans. The crunch of a shattering fortune cookie made him start.

  “I think it would’ve tasted better at the other end,” Günter said.

  Simon opened his mouth to respond, but Günter’s cell rang.

  “That’ll be your food.” Günter stood. “I’ll get it.”

  The door clicked shut. Simon grabbed the arm of Alex’s chair to jerk her toward him. A quick swivel and roll of the casters had her facing him, their knees bumping together. He leaned close. “Afternoon, sleepyhead.”

  Alex grinned and turned her cheek when he tried to kiss her.

  “Hey.” His brows drew together. “Where’s my kiss?”

  “You’ll get your kiss when my breath reeks of garlic as much as yours.”

  Simon glared playfully.

  Alex raised one brow. “It’s your own fault for not giving me any.”

  In a flash, Simon grabbed Alex around the waist and pulled her into his lap. With an elbow to his ribs, she caught him off guard. She stood. Simon lunged. Darting around the conference table, Alex kept him at bay. He feinted one way, she the other until they were breathless with laughter. When he caught her, it was because she let him.

  Simon reeled her toward him by one wrist. She giggled and dug her heels into the carpet. Cupping her ass, he nestled her against the line of his erection. At his thrust, her sensitized tissues swelled with fluid and heat. Laughter turned into a purr. She arched into him as he slid his hand up her shirt and pushed at her bra. Lacy material gave way to exploring fingers as Simon rolled and flicked each nipple, sending sensation zinging from pleasure point to pleasure point.

  Alex pressed one hand over Simon’s heart. The frequency of his respirations increased. He lifted her, encouraging her legs around his waist. She looped her hands behind his neck and savored the increased pressure along the seam of her sex. With resolute steps he carried her toward the bedroom they’d shared last night, pausing only to retrieve an object from the table.

  The door slammed shut and he fiddled with the lock behind his back. She wriggled and he groaned. Three long strides took them across the room where he let go. Trusting him, Alex did nothing to slow her descent to the mattress below. She bounced against pillows and the satin coverlet, her belly fluttering with wild abandon.

  Simon loomed over her. Predatory intent flared his nostrils. Alex’s breath hitched, her limbic system registering a threat though her mind recognized they still played. Consciously choosing flight rather than fight, she scooted rapidly up toward the headboard. Legs free, she launched herself toward the other side of the bed. Pressure around her ankles caught her short. She squealed and kicked out. Too late.

  Simon flipped her so she lay prone on the low platform bed, completely at his mercy. An attempt to face him, he thwarted with a knee to her back. The thrill in her middle—the pull of adrenaline plunging to her sex, opening and readying it for his conquest—compelled her to play at being, just this once, the weaker sex. Simon pinned her wrists to the small of her back with one hand. Breath coming hard, she stilled in a tangle of her own hair. He fisted the unruly strands, controlling her with measured pressure. Alex turned her head just to feel the sensual pull to her scalp. Obliging her, Simon gave a harder tug.

  She whimpered and he whispered, “Behave.”

  He released her hair but not her wrists. The schripp of Velcro ripping apart made Alex shiver and peer over her shoulder. His breathing increased to a more labored rhythm as he worked the binding tape loose from the roll with his teeth. As he bound her wrists, Alex rubbed her face along the satin sheets. From behind the curtain of her hair, she caught sight of Simon as he undid his zipper with exaggerated slowness.

  She bit her lip in anticipation. “Simon…”

  Silent, he shoved his jeans past his hips until his cock sprang free. Wide and proud, it strained toward her. Alex licked her lips. She wanted to taste the sweet musk of him—to catch that first drop of pre-cum with her tongue. She met Simon’s eyes and found he’d gone still. Reanimating with a blink, he leaned down. Slid his hands beneath her belly and unsnapped her jeans. Fastenings loosened, he stood, grabbed the cuffs and snapped her pants from her body with one tug. Alex gasped.

  Her panties Simon removed more slowly. First, he widened her thighs, exposing her to his gaze. Next, he slid two fingers along her sex. Lace grazed her pussy lips as he wedged the material between them with rolling fingers. He found her clit and pressed there, raking fabric along ultrasensitive tissues. Rapid circling motions sent her hips dancing to the rhythm he set. Pinpricks sparked behind her lids. So close…

  Simon withdrew his hand. Alex whimpered and arched her bottom upward in a plea for more. In response, he rolled the band of her panties down the sides of her hips. The material at her crotch peeled away from the wet folds of her sex. Alex blushed at the scent of her heat. Grasping her ankles, Simon yanked her closer. She couldn’t see what he did next, but she could feel. Oh God could she feel. The slide of his cock along her pussy, the silken heat of unyielding flesh probing at her ass, teasing in forbidden places. Alex tensed. Simon ran a soothing hand down her spine. Adjusting, he seated himself at the slippery folds of her pussy. He paused, seeming to gather himself, then entered her hard and fast.

  “Simon!”

  Drawing her with him, he stood and lifted her hips. Hands bound, caught beneath the weight of her desire, Alex received each pounding thrust with a keening cry. Light pulsed behind her eyelids, red hot then blindingly white. Her walls grasped at his shaft, holding him tight on the fiercest spasm, unwilling to let him go until she’d crested the peak of release and began the long fall to the other side.

  Grasping her to him, Simon came with
shuddering gasps and a final thrust that seemed to suspend them both in time and space. Simon tore the Velcro from Alex’s wrists before rolling her over. For a time, he simply lay pressed to her side, breath coming hard, as he massaged her wrists. She drifted back to reality on a cloud.

  “Wow.” She rolled her head to take him in. “That was amazing.”

  Cheek propped on his palm, he smiled at her. She gave in to the impulse to kiss his dimple. Hair spiked wildly, color high, he appeared more handsome than ever when he kissed her on the nose.

  “I love you,” she said.

  The words hung like an axe, hovering over the moment, then dropped to sever the connection between her and Simon. He blinked in shock. Alex scrambled to the other side of the bed. Drawing her knees up, she covered herself with a pillow and shook her head. Devoid of any excuse, she made one up. “Sorry… I—habit.”

  Already off the bed, back to her, Simon drew on his jeans with quick motions that bunched his shoulder muscles. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Alex nodded though he couldn’t see her. This obviously wasn’t the time to discuss their relationship, or whatever they had going on. A change of subject was in order, for both their sakes.

  “So you got the frame?” She reached over the side of the bed to retrieve her jeans.

  “Yep. It’s wrapped in brown paper. Leaned up against the breakfast bar.” Simon peered in the mirror and raked one hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at her. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice it.”

  “Oh.” Alex shoved down her bra and adjusted her shirt.

  Sticky wetness coated her thighs. Her pussy throbbed from the gloriously pounding sex. Both sensations served as evidence of their intimacy even if the afterglow was neither glowing nor intimate. She stood and crossed the room. Simon opened the door and Alex trailed him down the hall to find Günter leaning casually against the kitchen island, grinning at them. One look at Simon’s scowl and the smirk fell from Günter’s face.

  “Food’s on the table.” Günter jerked his chin toward the work area before returning his worried frown to Simon. “All right?”

  “You and Alex can work on the frame.” Simon pulled the laptop she’d retrieved for him last night closer to his place at the far end of the table and sat. “I’ll take a look at this.”

  Günter’s sideways glance compelled her to take great interest in the fork and bowl he’d laid out for her. “Do you mind if I eat while we work?”

  “Sure. The frame is pretty large. We can lean it against the wall in here or put it on the floor.” Günter hefted the package, twined with string, and carried it into the main work area.

  Alex unpackaged the walnuts and savored the sweet, crispy scent before snagging one morsel between her thumb and forefinger. She shrugged, speaking around the tidbit. “Either. Though doing it against the wall might allow easier penetration.”

  Simon’s head snapped up and Günter actually laughed.

  “Really? What are you two? Twelve?” A furious blush spiked to the roots of her hair. “You know very well what I meant.”

  “Don’t bother. They’re incorrigible.” Jenny Ainsley’s melodious voice brought Alex around with a start as the woman emerged from a smallish office off the hallway.

  Swallowing, Alex brushed her hands on her jeans and stepped forward. “Alexandra Valentine.”

  Honey-brown hair pulled into a ponytail, a smile crinkling the skin around eyes of gold-flecked brown, Jenny clasped Alex’s hand. “Jenny Ainsley. I’m—”

  “Günter’s girlfriend?” Alex cut in.

  Jenny grinned more broadly. “Yes. That too. I was going to say David Tallis’ sister since that’s how most people know me.”

  Recalling the musician’s brooding magnetism, Alex cleared her throat. Even she hadn’t been immune to the man’s star persona, though it struck her as more overwhelming than sexy. Give her a down-to-earth guy any day of the week.

  “He can be rather overwhelming.” Jenny dropped Alex’s hand and broadened her grin. “But if you see him in the morning before he’s showered and had coffee it’s a revelation.”

  Alex chuckled and decided she truly liked this woman. “I bet.”

  “So what’re you about?” Jenny asked in her quirky half-Brit, half-American accent.

  “Well, I was trying to choose between cleaning up this mess.” Alex swept her gaze around the jumble of supplies and gadgets. “Eating my food.” She popped another walnut in her mouth, then pointed to Günter. “And examining that frame.”

  “How about I add a fourth option?” Jenny played with a pen cap, rolling it back and forth against the table edge as she spoke.

  The crinkle of brown paper ceased as Günter looked over his shoulder. The frame rested against the wall where he’d been painstakingly unwrapping it after taking photographs of the packaging.

  “You were supposed to be balancing the accounts…” Günter’s voice rumbled a low warning.

  Jenny dropped the pen cap and stooped to retrieve it. She spoke from under the table. “I finished all that ages ago.”

  “Jenny…”

  “Oh shut it, you.” Jenny straightened and crossed to her boyfriend. He let her plant a peck on his lips but didn’t close his eyes. “You can deal with me later. I have some intel for you.”

  “Intel, huh?” Simon slid his glasses down his nose and peered at Jenny over the rims. His affectionate grin twisted Alex’s stomach with unwanted and unwarranted jealousy. “And where did you come by this tidbit, pray tell?”

  “The internet.” Günter snorted derisively and Jenny punched him lightly in the arm. “It’s about the painting.”

  “Oh?” Alex sat as she tore her chopsticks from their paper wrapper. “What about it?”

  Seeing she had an audience, Jenny flounced to a leather sofa in a snug seating area and ensconced herself in a corner. Wearing a fuzzy amethyst sweater with a sweetheart neckline, she appeared more college coed than the ex-accountant Alex knew her to be.

  “I wanted to see if there was any information on that frame—who made it and whether it was original to the painting.”

  Simon lowered the laptop lid and took off his glasses. “Not a bad idea. What made you think of it?”

  “Well, I was thinking perhaps it wasn’t original to the painting. That maybe Downing wanted the frame itself. What if he’d smuggled something in it previously and wanted it returned?” Jenny fairly bounced with excitement as she warmed to her topic.

  “The painting hasn’t left the States since the current owner purchased it forty years ago,” Günter said.

  “I know.” Jenny waved her hand at him impatiently. “Give me a chance, will you? Nobody’s going to shoot at me just because I used Google.”

  Günter sighed. “Go on.”

  “So, I didn’t find any information on the frame.”

  Simon nodded and Alex continued to relish the sauce dripping from her noodles as she watched the conversation play out. The dynamic between Jenny and Gun interested her as much as the topic. The couple played at emotional tug-of-war, with him trying to protect and contain a woman too effervescent to be captured or pinned down. She, on the other hand, appeared more than willing to engage him in a teasing game of cat and mouse.

  “It belongs to a private collector.”

  “Yes, we were aware of that,” Alex said around a mouthful of food.

  “I know.” Jenny slid forward in her seat. “But did you know the painting is scheduled to be presented as a gift to a visiting dignitary next week? And the President of the United States will be in attendance?”

  Alex froze mid-chew and riveted her gaze to Simon’s.

  “Oh fuck…” His gaze skittered away from hers.

  Günter stared at the frame as if it might grow fangs and start chasing him around the room. “We need a chemical trace analyzer.”

  “Are you thinking…?” Disbelief prevented Alex from finishing the sentence. Why hadn’t they known this?

  Günter nodded. �
��I’m betting Jenny’s at least partially right and there’s already something inside.”

  “I need to make a call.” Alex stood and approached the front door.

  “Here or nowhere,” Simon said.

  Alex faced him. “What?”

  “You make that call here where we can all listen.”

  Still in the act of pulling her phone from her pocket, she said, “This is classified—”

  Simon placed a hand over hers, stilling her from dialing.

  “I refuse to be part of a mission where I don’t have all the facts.” He took the phone and glanced at the number she’d been dialing from memory. “Especially when my friends are involved.”

  She nodded, though she knew she’d likely pay later for breaking protocol. “All right.”

  Simon pressed call and thumbed the button for the speaker phone before placing the device on the table. The cell rang twice before Larry Roberts’ voice echoed into the room. “Roberts.”

  “Sir, this is Agent Valentine.”

  “Valentine. How are we coming along?”

  Alex glanced at the faces around her. Günter, arms crossed over his chest, stared at the phone as if he wanted to bite it in half. Simon curled his lip in a sour expression, and Jenny just appeared fascinated.

  “Did you know the Picasso is slated to be at a state dinner next week?”

  A long pause from the AD said he had known.

  “We are aware.” His tone said she was to dig no further than what was common public knowledge.

  “And there are protections in place?”

  “Why should there be protections in place?”

  Disbelief made her gape at the cell. “Because the President of the United States will be there, sir.”

  “Have you discovered anything about the painting or the replacement frame that would lead you to believe the Secret Service incapable of protecting the President?” There was a sneer in the man’s question.

  Alex bristled. “No sir, but as a matter of—”

  “Agent Valentine?”

  Alex ground her teeth together. “Yes sir?”