Next Exit, Pay Toll

by CW Browning

  Alina heard a cell phone go off over the blood pounding in her ears. She thought it might be the burn phone that she used for communicating with Michael, but she couldn't seem to make herself care. With every touch and every breath, Damon had swept past every barrier she had tried to erect against this. She couldn't seem to get close enough to him. She was surrounded by his strength and his warmth, but it still wasn't enough. She wanted to feel every inch of him. She wanted to love him.

  And that sudden thought scared the hell right out of her.

  “Stop.”

  Alina gasped, ripping her mouth away from his, breathing heavily. The passion coursing through her made her whole body feel like jelly and she rested her chin on his broad shoulder, trying to catch her breath and get herself under control. Damon's heart was pounding against hers, his ragged breathing telling her that he was just as affected by this onslaught of desire. His jaw brushed her cheek as he held her close, taking long, deep breaths.

  They both stayed very still, afraid to move until they regained some kind of tenuous control. A laptop alarm beeped from the living room and still they didn't move, wrapped in each other’s arms. Damon realized that they were both taking long, deep breaths, trying to calm themselves and he chuckled. The low, rich sound reverberated into Alina's ear and her lips curved in response reluctantly.

  “Well, that was unexpected,” Hawk murmured finally, his heartbeat slowing at last to a manageable rhythm.

  Alina was absently stroking a hand across the back of his shoulders. She was silent, but made no move to pull away. Her pulse was slowly returning to normal and her mind was now racing. What just happened? How had they both lost total control? And how were they going to avoid it from happening again? Did she want to avoid it from happening again?

  “This is going to get complicated, isn't it?” Alina finally spoke, her voice low.

  Damon pulled away slightly and looked at her. Her lips were swollen and she looked completely dazed.

  “This got complicated five years ago when we both ended up in the same training facility for the Organization,” Damon replied quietly. Alina opened her mouth to speak, but Damon swiftly and gently pressed a finger against her lips, his cobalt eyes inches from hers. “And don't pretend that it didn't,” he whispered huskily. “You and I have been dancing around this ever since we met and you know it.”

  Alina stared at him. He was right. This attraction between them had always been there, from the day they met in boot camp ten years ago. They had just pushed it to the side. His finger moved off her lips and Damon leaned his forehead against hers gently, careful to avoid the wound near her temple. Alina inhaled slowly, surrounded by the warmth of his skin. His eyes were sparkling into hers, laughter lurking deep in their depths. Laughter and something else.

  “In my defense, we would have killed each other then,” Alina whispered a little breathlessly, her lips curving slightly. “And that training course was too damn hard to concentrate on anything else.”

  “I'll give you that,” Damon agreed with a slight laugh.

  She moved her head back, breaking contact with his forehead and giving herself some breathing room. Damon let her move back a few inches before his arms, still wrapped around her, stopped her retreat. Alina stared into his eyes, trying to sort out the scrambling thoughts and emotions tumbling through her while Damon watched her, his eyes hooded and the hint of a smile on his lips.

  A jumble of memories cascaded through her mind: racing him on the obstacle course in basic training; the bonfire after graduation; seeing him in the training facility and feeling her heart leap; sitting across from him and laughing at a café in Paris; stepping off a commercial flight in Singapore to find him leaning against a railing, smiling at her. Random memories from the past flitted through her mind as she stared into his eyes.

  “There just wasn't time,” Alina finally whispered.

  Damon nodded slowly. He slid his hand slowly up her arm, watching the goosebumps follow his fingers.

  “There is now,” he said quietly.

  His eyes went back to her face in time to see something flash in her eyes before it was effectively hidden.

  “Maybe,” Alina whispered.

  Damon's hand slid over her bare shoulder and across her collarbone before coming to rest gently along the side of her jaw. Alina's mouth went dry again and her heart started thudding.

  Damon stared deep into her eyes, seemingly trying to peer straight through to her soul. It was a long moment before he sighed softly. He lifted his other hand to her face, holding her head still, and kissed her softly. It was a long, gentle kiss and when he finally lifted his head, Alina felt like he had stolen some of her soul. He smiled slowly and the twinkle that she knew so well came back into his eyes.

  “Well, if we're going to hold off on this for a bit, you'll have to unwrap your legs from around me before I make an executive decision out of pure necessity,” he murmured, dropping his hands back to her waist and rubbing his nose teasingly against hers.

  Alina felt a blush steal into her cheeks. Damon saw it and grinned, laughter leaping into his eyes. Her eyes narrowed at the grin and Alina released her legs suddenly. As they dropped, it forced her pelvis sharply against his and Damon groaned in reaction, biting his lip. Alina smiled at him and slowly slid her hands off his shoulders, bringing them to rest on his chest.

  Hawk lifted his head and looked at her, his eyes dark.

  “That was just mean,” he growled.

  Alina's chuckle was cut short when he pulled her against his chest sharply and dropped his mouth to hers. It was several long moments before either of them could speak again, and when he finally lifted his head, her legs were wrapped around him again. He grinned, his eyes dancing.

  “We seem to be right back where we started,” he murmured.

  Alina burst out laughing and disentangled her legs more slowly this time, pushing against his hard chest. Damon winked and stepped back, lifting her back onto the floor. He kept his hands on her waist for a moment and looked down at her. His eyes were suddenly serious.

  “We can't avoid this forever,” he told her and Alina looked up slowly.

  “I know.”

  Damon nodded and dropped a light kiss on her forehead before letting go of her waist.

  “You better go get that gash cleaned out. We have work to do,” he said, turning away. “That was your boy's laptop booting up that made that beep earlier. Looks like he's back to work.”

  After a long shower, Alina descended the stairs again feeling more like herself. Hawk was settled in the center of the couch, with two laptops opened on the coffee table before him. He had put on a shirt and Alina was both grateful and a little disappointed. He glanced up as she came off the stairs.

  “We might have a problem,” he told her, sitting back.

  Alina stopped behind the couch.

  “Oh?”

  Damon tilted his head back to look up at her.

  “Your boy is poking around in things above his pay grade,” he told her, then he frowned. “You didn't clean that gash very well.”

  “The peroxide is down here,” Alina retorted. “What's he doing?”

  “Go get the peroxide,” Damon sat forward again, “then we'll talk.”

  Alina made a face at the back of his head and continued into the kitchen. She retrieved her first aid box from the pantry and returned with the box and her bottle of water. Damon watched her sink onto the rug, cross legged. She had changed into loose black yoga pants and a tank top. Her feet were bare, her hair was wet, and Damon thought she looked beautiful.

  “He texted me earlier,” she said, opening the sturdy tool box that was her first aid kit and pulling out a bag of cotton balls and a roll of medical tape. After a second of rummaging, she pulled out a gauze bandage.

  “And?” Damon asked, getting up to grab the cotton balls and peroxide. “Come here. I'll do it,” he said briskly, sitting back on the couch.

  Alina got up and sat on the couch
sideways, one leg pulled up, facing him.

  “I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself,” she informed him and Hawk winked.

  “I know you are,” he agreed, holding a cotton ball over the top of the peroxide and flipping the bottle over to drench it. “You can't see what's in there. If there's glass, we need to get it out.” He leaned forward and started dabbing gently on the wound. The shower had washed all the dried blood away, but it was oozing slightly and looked angry. “This isn't looking good,” he said with a frown.

  “It's fine,” Alina said impatiently, watching him. “Once it's cleaned out and covered, it'll be fine.”

  Damon sat back and dropped the cotton ball onto the coffee table, pulling out a fresh one.

  “So what did your boy have to say?” he prompted, wetting the new cotton ball with the peroxide.

  “He's not my boy,” she retorted. “He wanted to make sure I made it home without an issue.”

  Damon raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh really?” he drawled. Alina nodded.

  “He wanted to bring me himself, but I told him he was being ridiculous,” she said as Damon leaned forward and went to work on her forehead again.

  “Tell me what exactly happened,” he said.

  “Four men were paid cash up front to attack Michael and 'rough him up,'” she told him. “They were supposed to get his laptop as well. At least, that's what the one I questioned said.”

  “I saw that. Nicely done, by the way,” Hawk murmured, concentrating on his task.

  “Thank you.” Alina winced slightly when he hit a raw spot. “Why did you flip all the power breakers?” she asked suddenly.

  “To give you guys an advantage,” he answered. Alina smiled.

  “It worked,” she said.

  He nodded and prodded the raw spot again. She sucked in some air and winced again.

  “Sorry,” he said, getting up.

  Alina raised her eyebrow and watched as he dropped the cotton ball onto the table and went over to the first aid box. He returned with tweezers.

  “There's glass,” he said shortly. Alina scowled.

  “And you think you're going to dig it out?” she demanded, trying to grab the tweezers. “Thanks, but no. I'll go upstairs and do it myself.”

  Damon held the tweezers away from her, laughing.

  “I can get it,” he told her, leaning back as she leaned forward to grab them.

  “So can I,” she retorted, lunging for his hand.

  The resulting struggle ended with him on his back and her sprawled on top of him, without the tweezers.

  “Sweetheart, if you want to be on top, just say so,” Damon murmured, his eyes dancing with laughter.

  Alina grunted and pushed herself up. She stuck her tongue out at him with a glare and Damon burst into laughter, the deep, rich sound filling the room. Alina grinned reluctantly and scrambled off him, settling back down in her corner. Damon sat up, the tweezers reappearing in his hand.

  “It won't hurt, I promise,” he said with a grin, his eyes dancing. “No need to be scared.”

  Alina's eyes narrowed into slits and Damon bit back another laugh. She pressed her lips together silently and allowed him to lean forward with the tweezers.

  “You know, you really need to let go of these control issues you have,” he said conversationally, knowing he was playing a dangerous game but enjoying himself too much to stop. Keeping a wary eye on her right fist, he turned her head slightly so that he could see better. “You don't always have to do it yourself.”

  “It's what I'm used to,” Alina said after a short silence. She grit her teeth as he probed into the heart of the wound with the tweezers.

  “Hold out your hand,” Damon murmured. Alina held her hand out, palm up. “It's what we're both used to. Maybe we need to learn to let go of some of that and give ourselves a break once in a while.”

  Alina didn't answer. It was taking every ounce of will power that she had just to sit still and let him dig into an open wound on her head. After what seemed like an eternity, he sat back and dropped a long piece of glass into her palm. It was an inch and a half long, and she stared at it in disbelief.

  “THAT was in my head?!” she demanded.

  Damon was drenching another cotton ball with peroxide.

  “It's just a sliver,” he answered, leaning forward again.

  Alina started to feel a little light-headed and, glancing at her face, Damon saw it draining of color.

  “So, what happened with the guy in the chair on the porch?” he asked, cleaning the wound gently and trying to force her mind onto something else.

  “Uh...” Alina swallowed and forced herself to concentrate on what Damon was asking. “Michael detained him because he had a Special Forces tattoo.”

  “Special Forces tattoo?” Damon paused and looked at her. Alina was watching him steadily.

  “The same one you had,” she told him quietly.

  Damon stared at her for a beat.

  “You're sure?” he asked. Alina nodded.

  “It's pretty distinctive,” she murmured.

  Damon finished cleaning out the wound and sat back.

  “I'm surprised you remembered it,” he said, slowly. “I recognized him. I'm already running checks on him to find out what he was doing there.”

  “Michael took him onto the porch because he was bleeding on the carpet. He went back to the kitchen to get some ice for his nose.” Alina gathered the bloody cotton balls together and stood up. “That's when the SUV rolled down the street and shot him. It was a good shot. Double-tap to the chest from a moving vehicle,” she added thoughtfully. “Not your average drive-by.”

  She turned and went into the kitchen to throw the cotton balls away. When she returned, some of the color had returned to her face.

  “Did you talk to my brother in arms?” Damon asked her as she sat back on the couch. He ripped open the gauze bandage and placed it on the gash. Alina held it in place while he tore off the tape.

  “Yes. He didn't say anything, but I got what I needed,” she answered. “He was hired by someone he believed was in the government and he had no idea why he was attacking an ex-Marine. He also had no idea that there was anything fishy going on until he was handcuffed to a chair. I think then he realized he'd been used. I'm pretty sure he was feeling more than a little guilty.” Damon taped the bandage down and sat back. His lips were pressed together grimly. “What was his name?”

  “Jason Rogers.” Hawk turned away and went to one of the laptops. “Your boy's running a search on the tattoo. It won't take him long to uncover it. My whole team got it after one of the raids in Afghanistan.”

  Alina looked at Damon's arm where the tattoo used to be. It had been the first thing to go when they were in training for The Organization. All identifying marks were lasered off. Standard operating procedure.

  “What are you worried about?” Alina turned on the couch and sat back, sipping her water. “You're hedging around something. Is it the tattoo?”

  “The tattoo doesn't worry me. All he'll get from that is who was in that particular team with Jason, and my name won't appear anywhere he can find it.” Hawk glanced at her and turned the laptop to face her. “But if he gets access to this, it'll tell him a hell of a lot more.”

  Alina looked at Hawk and then sat forward to look at the screen. On it was a screenshot of the remote view to Michael's computer. It showed a formal request for access to Alina's classified military file.

  “If he gets access to that, we're done,” Hawk told her grimly.

  Chapter Twelve

  Alina stood next to the window in the small bedroom and stared out into the night. The room was dark and the house was silent. She had left Hawk stretched out on the couch downstairs to sleep, but Alina couldn't sleep just yet. Her mind was churning. A sudden scratching sound on the roof pulled her attention away from the window and she smiled as Raven appeared at the makeshift swinging window she had rigged up in the corner. He nudged it and the glass sw
ung inward, allowing him to step on the sill and then hop onto his perch in the corner of the room. His black eyes gleamed as they latched onto her, standing across the room.

  “Good hunting?” Alina murmured.

  Raven stretched his wings and settled down on his perch, his eyes fixed on his mistress as she turned her attention back outside. The sky was starting to lighten to a pale gray in the distance and she knew she needed to rest. She was exhausted, and it was counter-productive to think when she was exhausted. Yet, she didn't move from the window.

  Hawk had traced the plates of the SUV. The current registered driver of the vehicle was a man named Billy Conners. It took absolutely no time at all to pull up a rap sheet on Billy going back to his juvenile days. He was bad news all around, his criminal career spanning everything from petty theft all the way through the ranks to rape and murder. He had done hard time in Illinois for the rape and murder, and was released on good behavior two years ago. He was placed under the care of a parole officer that, at the time, was working on the grassroots campaign supporting the candidacy of Alex Ludmere for Vice President.

  Alina's eyes narrowed and stared sightlessly out the window. The parole officer was dead now. He died of a heart attack a year ago, but Alina discovered that before his death, he had given a stellar report to the parole commission. As a result, Billy's parole ended three months earlier than originally scheduled. Billy then quit his job at the factory where he was working and promptly disappeared from the paper trail of employment records. The last mention of him Alina was able to find was six months ago when his name popped up on a lease for an apartment on the outskirts of DC. He was listed as occupant, but the apartment was leased to Morganston Security, the parent company listed for the lease on the SUV. A background check on the company had offered up a woman's name as the sole shareholder. Regina Cummings. Alina's gut told her that Regina was the mystery woman in the photos from London two years ago.