Carnal Chemistry

by Katie Allen

  He gave a short shake of his head. “The less you know, the better. I’ve put you in enough fucking danger already.”

  A small surge of annoyance tightened her fingers on the steering wheel. “The less I know isn’t better. I hate not knowing things.”

  “Drop me off up here,” Calvin told her, pointing.

  “But the library’s still two blocks away.”

  “I’ll walk.”

  Pulling up to the curb, Lauren nibbled on her lower lip. “Why don’t you just come to my house?” she offered. “You can use my computer.”

  “Because the fuckers will trace it back to you.” Calvin unbuckled his seat belt. “I’ve already—”

  “I know,” she interrupted with a sigh. “You’ve already put me in enough danger. I got it the first time.”

  “Right.” He looked at her for a few seconds and then reached for the door handle.

  Lauren caught his other hand. He glanced at her, startled. “Good luck,” she said. “If you get this whole NSA thing sorted out and aren’t an actual terrorist and feel like giving me a call, I wouldn’t hate that.”

  He smiled and leaned in to give her a hard, short kiss. “I will,” he promised as he pulled away.

  “Or call me if you need help.” She didn’t hold out much hope for that one, since he just shook his head and gave her a look.

  “Goodbye, Lauren,” he told her quietly, his gaze holding her for a few more seconds before he got out of the car.

  “Wait,” she told him, rolling down the passenger-side window. “You need my phone number.”

  He just shook his head. “I’ll find you.” Turning around, he made his way into the lunch-hour crowd of people on the sidewalk and disappeared.

  Chapter Three

  As she pulled into a space in the parking lot of her apartment building, Lauren sighed.

  “The saddest part,” she muttered to herself, “is that this was the longest relationship you’ve had in years. Wow. That’s depressing. And now you’re talking to yourself. The downward spiral just keeps...well, spiraling. Downward.”

  With a shake of her head, she shoved her door open and got out. She wished she hadn’t told her boss she was sick. The last thing she wanted to do right now was wander her empty apartment and worry about Calvin. It wasn’t as if she could go shopping or anything, though. With her luck, she’d run into someone from work and get busted for lying.

  She pressed the code into the keypad and pulled open the front door of her building. Her apartment was on the second floor, and she took the stairs instead of the elevator out of habit. As she climbed the steps, she gave a snort of laughter. She’d definitely gotten her share of exercise today.

  At the second-floor landing, she pushed the door open and stepped into the hall. Rolling the residual tension out of her shoulders, she rounded the corner and saw her apartment. Lauren stopped, her breath catching in her throat.

  Her door was ajar.

  Her first thought was that she’d forgotten to shut her door that morning when she left for work, but Lauren instantly dismissed that idea. She would’ve never left her door unlocked, much less open. Someone else had been in there...or maybe still was.

  When her vision fogged around the edges, she focused on breathing. Her heart was beating so quickly that it was making her dizzy. She moved toward the door, staying close to the wall so she was out of the line of sight of anyone who might be in the apartment.

  She reached the edge of her doorway and paused, breathing hard. Her heartbeat, her gasps for air, even her racing thoughts seemed incredibly loud. Lauren couldn’t imagine anyone in the apartment—if anyone was in the apartment—not being able to hear her. Panic shot through her, and she clamped down on that thought immediately. Taking a deep breath, she risked a quick glance through the opening—and saw the back of a dark-suited man in her living room.

  There was a man in her apartment.

  Flattening herself against the wall, she sucked in frightened breaths. Her hand crept toward her purse, but then she paused. If these were the same NSA guys who’d been after Calvin, the police probably wouldn’t be of much help.

  Over the thundering of her heart, Lauren heard the murmur of voices coming from her apartment. She briefly debated between listening to what the intruders were saying and getting the hell out of there, and decided she needed to know what was going on.

  Swallowing back a terrified whimper, she moved closer, staying as flat as possible against the wall. Holding the doorknob so she didn’t accidentally push the door open, Lauren put her ear as close as she could without revealing herself to the men inside her home.

  “Anything?” one of them asked.

  “Nothing,” another answered. “Reed was positive that this woman’s involved with the subject?”

  “He said he was sure,” the first voice said. “You know Reed, though. Cocky son of a bitch. He’s positive this woman knows something, but Reed’s also positive that every woman wants him, and we both know how wrong he is there.”

  “Yeah.” There was silence and then the second man spoke again. “I’m finding shit-all evidence there’s ever been a man in this apartment, much less one of the LRs. This chick doesn’t even own a condom.”

  There was a snort of laughter from the other intruder. “If he’s knocked her up, that’ll be a whole new project for Dr. K.”

  “Wouldn’t she fucking love that?” The second man’s voice was thick with distaste. “A baby to stick with needles.”

  The first man cleared his throat. “Better watch it,” he said. His voice was low, forcing Lauren to strain to hear. “You don’t want anyone else to hear you talk like that.”

  The other man grunted. “What’s the plan, then? We supposed to bring her in?”

  “Yeah. Reed said she was on her way home. Sick, supposedly.”

  “Great,” the second man grumbled. “Hope she doesn’t puke in our car. That smell never comes out.”

  Lauren felt dizzy, and her knees went soft. Her weight sagged, and she instinctively grabbed the knob harder before it slipped out of her sweaty grip. The door swung open wider and she stumbled back, staring at the startled men for one horrified second before whirling around and bolting for the stairs.

  She expected shouts behind her, but there was just the thud of her apartment door swinging open and hitting against the stop and then running feet. The quiet pursuit was so much scarier than yelling and clattering.

  Smacking the release bar on the stair door with both palms, she took the steps in a rush, wishing for a pair of running shoes instead of her boots. Even more than sneakers, she wished more bystanders—preferably helpful ones—were around. The building appeared to be abandoned, with everyone at work or school or wherever people disappeared to during the day.

  Tearing through the lobby, she focused on the exterior door. If she could get outside and across the parking lot to her car, she’d be safe. Her hand reached for the door handle but hard fingers caught her upper arm and yanked her to a stop.

  “Let me go!” she screamed, clawing at the hand that held her captive.

  “Calm do—Ow!” he yelped as her nails caught in his skin and raked across his hand. “Bitch!”

  His fingers loosened enough for her to jerk away, and she whirled toward the door again. This time, she managed to get outside and into the parking lot before something hit her back. She sprawled, facedown, on the pavement. The weight of the man who’d tackled her pushed all the air out of her lungs and she struggled to suck in a ragged breath.

  Suddenly, the pressure eased as the man’s weight disappeared.

  Lauren immediately shoved to her knees and then scrambled to her feet, starting to run almost before she was upright. No footsteps chased behind her, so she risked a glance over her shoulder and immediately tripped, going down h
ard on one knee.

  Calvin was there.

  Standing again, Lauren gasped for breath, staring at the scene behind her. Calvin, innocuous mail clerk, was fighting with the two NSA agents.

  No, she corrected herself mentally, he’s not fighting them. He’s pounding them. Even two against one, there was no contest. As Lauren watched in horror, he tossed one of the other men several feet into the wall of her building. The NSA agent landed in a heap.

  The other man staggered to his feet, swaying. One more punch across the face from Calvin lifted the guy off his feet, tumbling him backward into an unmoving lump of suit.

  “Move!” Calvin was running toward her. “Fucking go! More of these assholes will be coming.”

  That shook Lauren out of her frozen shock. “But—”

  “Go!” he ordered, close enough to grab her arm and hustle her toward her car. “Run now. Explanations later.”

  Half-dragged by Calvin’s grip, Lauren tried again. “How—”

  “Later.” They were almost at her car. “Keys.”

  Oddly enough, after everything that’d just happened, they were still clutched in her hand. She unlocked her aching fingers and eased them open, revealing the keys and the red lines across her palm and fingers where the metal had bitten into her skin. Calvin took the keys and unlocked the car doors, getting into the driver’s seat.

  Automatically, Lauren climbed into the passenger seat. She was relieved that she didn’t have to drive, since even basic functioning was a tad bit difficult at the moment.

  “Seat belt,” Calvin barked as he backed out of her parking space and sped across the lot. Without stopping, he whipped the car onto the road, merging with the congested traffic as Lauren squeezed her eyes closed. Since she didn’t hear or feel a crash, she dared a quick peek and was relieved to see that they and the car were still all in one piece.

  Calvin drove quickly, weaving in and out of cars with apparent ease. “Your seat belt’s not buckled,” he told her conversationally.

  She stared down at the strap she was clutching in both hands. “Sorry,” she said faintly, pulling the belt across her body and clicking the buckle into place.

  “Shit. How badly are you hurt?” he asked, tension creeping into his voice.

  “Hurt?” Lauren looked down her body. “I’m not hurt.”

  “You’re fucking bleeding.”

  “Oh.” She tugged up her skirt to reveal two skinned knees. “I am. Sorry.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he said with a choke of a laugh. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

  She tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “Right. It’s the NSA guys’ fault.” The reality of what had just happened to her was beginning to sink in. “Men from the National Security Administration broke into my apartment. They were going to question me. They tackled me!” Her voice rose from quiet incredulity to close to a shout by the end of her sentence.

  Calvin’s face went hard. “Motherfucking assholes.”

  She stared at him. “Don’t just say that. I know they’re assholes. They broke in and then tackled me. That’s a pretty good indication that they’re assholes. Say what the hell happened. Say why the NS-freaking-A is after you. Say what you did before you became a shaggy mail clerk. Say how you can throw NSA agents like fricking Frisbees!” Talking about all the crazy things that had happened out loud was really freaking out Lauren again. “Say where we’re going and what we’re going to do and whether we’re both going to be killed by government agents who seem to have absolutely no sense of humor!”

  “Lauren.”

  “What?” She was breathing hard.

  “You need to stay calm.”

  His soothing tone was extremely aggravating.

  “No, Calvin,” she gritted out. “I will not calm down until you give me a freaking good reason to calm down, okay? So talk.” She glared at his profile as he drove and his composed expression annoyed her even more. “Why aren’t you bothered by any of this?”

  That brought a flash of heat to his eyes. “I am bothered,” he shot back. “You know what bothers me the most?”

  “What?” Her tone had lost a lot of its earlier challenge. It appeared she’d managed to poke the sleeping tiger a time too many. Calvin’s expression was positively ferocious.

  “You.” He whipped around a corner fast enough to make the tires squeal a complaint and send Lauren scrambling for a handhold. “I do my very fucking best to avoid you, but no. You have to come down to the basement, to chitchat and laugh and look at me with those eyes and drive me nuts, and now those cocksuckers targeted you, and you’re involved in my fucking mess of a life, and you’re fucking bleeding all over my fucking car.”

  “My car,” Lauren corrected a little weakly. “And I’m not bleeding all over. My knees are just a little scraped.”

  “Goddamn it,” he snapped, jerking the steering wheel to the right so the car pulled up against the curb. Coming to an abrupt stop, he slammed the car into park and unbuckled his seat belt in a single motion. Twisting toward her, he caught the back of her head, stopping her instinctive flinch back.

  “Wha—” she started to ask but he cut her off, his mouth coming down hard on hers. The kiss wasn’t gentle. It demanded and took, commanding rather than requesting, and Lauren was a little concerned about her own mental health when she yielded instantly beneath the pressure. It was the bossiest kiss she’d ever experienced, and she loved every second of it.

  When he finally pulled away, she could only blink, all her words blown from her mind by the intensity of the kiss.

  “I’m sorry,” he told her gruffly. “I didn’t want to get you involved in this.”

  Reaching up, she closed her fingers around the wrist of his hand holding her head. “I know.” Glancing over her shoulder, she offered him a half smile. “Not to cut this broad-daylight, side-of-a-busy-street make-out session short, but shouldn’t we be getting, you know, away?”

  His laugh was choked but definitely a laugh. He gave her a final short, intense kiss and then sat back and buckled his seat belt again. “You’re distracting.”

  “I’m distracting?” she sputtered, laughing when she saw the teasing lift of his lips as he merged back into traffic. “Bastard.” She reached over to give his shoulder a shove, but he didn’t even shift when her hand met the solid resistance of his upper arm. “Might as well try to push over a ginormous rock.”

  He quirked an eyebrow at her.

  “Never mind.” She waved a hand. “We have more important things to discuss. Why’s the NSA after you? And this time, don’t put me off or kiss me or do whatever you think will distract me from my questions.”

  “I’ll answer,” he said seriously. “You should know.”

  The silence stretched long enough for Lauren to get impatient. “Well? I should know...what?”

  “I... Fuck.” He sighed, rubbing his fingers against his temple. “I’ve never really told anyone about this before.”

  “Really?” Lauren felt a little flattered by that. “Just start at the beginning. I won’t judge.” She made a face. “Okay, so that might’ve been a lie. I’ll try not to judge, but sometimes, despite my very best intentions, it just happens.”

  He gave an unsteady laugh. “The problem is that I don’t remember the beginning.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “No.” Calvin’s voice was deadly serious. “It’s not.”

  “Just start from where you remember,” she urged, trying to be encouraging. He turned left at an intersection, and she frowned. “Actually, before you start, where are we going?”

  “Like you said,” he told her, the humorous quirk back on his lips. “Away.”

  Giving him a sideways glance, she said, “Have a little problem with long-term planning, don’t you?”

&
nbsp; “Never had to do it before.”

  “Not reassuring, Calvin.”

  He shot her a quick grin and turned right. “We’re going to an electronics store,” he explained. “Then we’re going to Colorado.”

  “Colorado,” she repeated.

  He nodded as he made yet another turn.

  “Colorado?” This time it was more of a yelp. “Colorado? As in that state all the way across the country? That cold state all the way across the country?”

  “My friends are there,” he said, concentrating on his driving as traffic slowed to a crawl. “Obviously, scattering across the country and hiding isn’t working anymore. I’m the third one of us that those assholes have tracked down over the past couple of months. The five of us have to come up with a—” he gave a wry smile “—long-term plan.”

  “I can’t go to Colorado.” She stared blindly out the windshield as thousands of frantic thoughts competed for her attention. “What about my job?”

  Calvin didn’t look amused anymore. “Those bastards won’t leave you alone. It’s not safe for you to stay here.”

  “I could take vacation time.” Lauren was still struggling to think logically. “Maybe visit my parents in Maine...”

  He shook his head, his mouth in a hard line. “No. Your family’s and your friends’ homes are the first places they’ll look, the first people they’ll interrogate.”

  Lauren blinked. “Interrogate?” she repeated, her voice sharpening on the last syllable. “What does that mean? Will they be hurt? Have I put them in danger?”

  Reaching over, he took one of her flailing hands and squeezed it. Lauren hadn’t realized how cold her fingers were until his closed around them. His hand was so warm that hers tingled almost painfully in his grip.

  “They should be fine,” he assured her, giving her hand a final squeeze and then releasing it. “The agents will just ask your parents and friends what they know. You, on the other hand, would not be fine if those assholes found you.”

  “But why?” she asked, a little embarrassed about the plaintive wail in her voice but not really able to do anything about it. “I’m a marketing drudge who kissed a hot guy in the mail room. How does that make me a threat to the nation?”