ALIAS SMITH AND JONES

by Kylie Brant

  Only when the shudders seemed to be subsiding did he move away, reaching for his jeans and taking out a foil packet. He wasn't going to take a chance with her again, wasn't going to give her reason for worry. She surprised him by sitting up, batting his hands out of the way and rolling the latex over his shaft. He was close enough to the edge that even that touch was enough to have his vision hazing.

  But not yet. Not just yet. He peeled her panties down her legs, leaned over to press a kiss to her still quivering flesh. Then he fitted them together, side to side, with her facing away from him. He was pressed against her curvy bottom, and the sensation was both heaven and hell. Ducking his head, he nipped at her shoulder, then laved the sting away with his tongue. He stroked his hand down her thigh, enjoying the whisper of muscle beneath the smooth skin. Urging her knee up, he opened her to him, and used the position to slide between her hot slick folds.

  A strangled groan came from him as moved into her. Her earlier release had moistened his way, and she surrounded him like wet hot velvet. Gripping her hips, he surged closer, enjoying the twin pleasures of pressing against her tight round bottom, even as he lodged himself more deeply in her softness. One of his hands went up to toy with her breast, but already a red mist was swimming across his eyes. There was only sensation, one slapping into another. Need was slashing through him like a savage vicious blade, and he lunged harder, wanting more. Wanting all.

  "Annie." His mouth was at her throat, his hips pistoning against hers. Each hard thrust took him closer to the edge, drew another cry from her lips. Sensation after sensation flashed inside him. The contrast of tight curves and heated flesh. The urge to move inside her harder, deeper, faster.

  She pressed her hips against him, and he surged inside her, his climax gripping him in a sudden savage grasp. And as his hips slammed against hers, his breath sawing through his lungs, he knew that this would never be enough.

  * * *

  He'd never been one to linger in bed with a woman beside him once the need had been filled. But there was an odd sort of pleasure in having Annie draped over him, her fingers stroking the hair on his chest, one of her legs lodged between his.

  "You want to tell me what your name is now, don't you?" It was the last thing he'd expected her to say, and a smile tugged at his lips. "I can feel it." Her cheek was pressed against his heart, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin. "It's that soft mushy side of you, Jones. Makes you inclined to babble after sex."

  "I never babble."

  She tilted her head up to look at him, as if too depleted of energy to lift it. "If you tell me I'll stop talking."

  "Finally, an offer I can't refuse." He winced when she yanked at a hair on his chest. His hand tightened on her bottom. "It's worse than Augustus."

  "I hate to tell you this, but nothing is worse than Augustus."

  He took a deep breath, staring at the ceiling. Amazing that this conversation should have him lazy and contented, unwilling to spoil the mood. "Not even … Xavier?"

  She reared up to look at him. Probably thought he was joking. Fat chance. He didn't have that good a sense of humor.

  "Xavier Augustus … Jones?" Her tone was awed.

  "No." Her position had put her nipple in intriguing proximity to his fingers, so he reached over to tug the velvety softness. "Jones was my first cover, and it stuck. My real last name is Wilkey."

  "Xavier Augustus Wilkey." She cupped his face in both her hands, her expression mingled amusement and pity. "I hate to break it to you, Jones. But your parents really, really hated you."

  His arms tightened around her as he started to laugh. Really laugh. Her giggles joined his until they were both shaking with mirth, and he became distracted by the way the movement had her breasts jiggling against him. Then he rolled her over and the pleasure flickered to life again. Kissing her deeply, he let the passion take them again.

  * * *

  The soft gray light of dawn was spilling through the window and Jones was still awake. The night hadn't been endless after all. He and Annie had made love over and over, stopping only to eat the food, long cold, on the tray outside the door.

  He stroked the silky curve of her back, lightly enough to avoid awakening her. Choices made long ago weren't meant to be overturned lightly. He'd made his decisions, and until recently he hadn't questioned them. There had been no reason to. If he was wise, he'd avoid questioning them now.

  But it wasn't wisdom he considered as his arms tightened around Annie's sleeping form, pulling her closer. Shutting his eyes against a growing sense of desolation, instead he tried not to think about how empty his arms were going to feel when he put her on that plane tomorrow. Alone.

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  «^

  Jones flipped his cell phone shut and looked across the room at Ana. "They must have had people working on the paper all night. Mashuki says they've decoded it."

  Ana dropped to the edge of the bed. "Were we on the right track?"

  "Were you, you mean?" His mouth quirked. "Yeah. He was guarded about saying too much, but there's definitely enough there to make the Global Trade Organization delay the Laconos vote. He led me to believe that there would be various organizations taking a closer interest in the new government down there, investigating the Bunei murder-suicide."

  "If the Agency shares any of its information, that should speed things along."

  "We'll see. Sharing information wasn't exactly part of our job description."

  "Well." In a dizzying rush it occurred to her that this was it. There was no reason now to linger. No reason to delay their parting. And because it would hurt, far, far too much to have him say it, she decided to be the one to broach it first. She spread her arms to indicate her nonexistent luggage. "I'm all packed."

  "Yeah." He looked away with an odd expression on his face. She refused to let it give her hope. She'd known how this was going to end before they'd wound up in the bed together last night. And despite that, or maybe because of it, she wasn't going to regret it. Not a moment of it.

  He cleared his throat. "Mashuki is also going to have someone go to the hotel, get our stuff sent to the airport right away."

  She bobbed her head. Without their passport documents, they stood little chance of getting out of the country. "Sounds like you thought of everything."

  "Not everything," he murmured, staring intently. "Not nearly everything." After a moment he cleared his throat, looked away. "I have one more call to make, then we'll catch a taxi. Okay?"

  It took every ounce of acting ability she had to fashion a smile. "Okay." She rose and headed to the bathroom, intent on leaving him to that last phone call in privacy. She didn't have any experience at morning afters. And even less with final goodbyes. But she had a feeling that she was going to be getting that experience, real soon. She might as well start preparing for it now.

  * * *

  Heathrow Airport was even more busy than it had been the day before. They disembarked at the international gates and headed inside. Jones had mentioned that they'd take the same flight back to the States. He hadn't said more, but he hadn't needed to. Once there they would split up to the separate flights that would divide them forever.

  It was funny, Ana thought grimly, how the distance already seemed to yawn between them. She almost wished they could find different flights home. She didn't know which would be more torturous: sitting next to Jones for several more hours, knowing it would be their last time together or a quicker more final division. Either would be equally painful, she decided unhappily. It was just a matter of timing.

  She barely noticed the quick, assessing glance Jones sent around the airport before steering her toward the nearest information desk. It was here that Mashuki would have left their things.

  "Don't move until I get back."

  She nodded, and Jones joined the long line in front of the desk. She leaned against the column where he'd placed her. She hadn't gotten a lot of sleep last night, and exhaustion w
as seeping into her limbs. It mixed with the ache that was spreading as she contemplated the bleakness of her future.

  She'd survive of course. Ana swallowed, blinked rapidly. Jones wasn't the only man in the world. What was it that made him so special? He'd thrown her off a cliff, a fact she hadn't quite forgiven him for, fashioned a rescue in a garbage scow … not exactly the stuff of hero stories. So why was there a hollow place where her heart had been?

  Something sharp poked her. "My dear Miss Smith. How delightful to see you again." She froze, the familiarity of the voice, the weapon at her spine, sending glacial splinters of ice through her veins. "No, don't look around. Just turn and come with me, or you and your friend will die right here."

  Shala. A shudder of revulsion rippled through her. He was next to her, on the other side of the column, hidden from Jones's sight. She could only see him from her peripheral vision. "My friend? You must be mistaken. I'm alone."

  The blade at her back pressed punishingly closer. "I have an associate nearby who has him covered. If you don't cooperate exactly we'll leave him dead on the floor here. A rather fitting end for a thief, don't you think?"

  "You're taking a stupid chance." With effort she kept her voice steady, willed Jones to turn and look her way. "Shimbun has the paper, and it's already been decoded. The scheme Laconos came up with to broaden their trade agreements isn't going to come to a vote today. Once they finish their investigation of your country, it will never come to a vote."

  "And someone should pay for that, don't you think? So slip around this side of the column, very carefully."

  Ana sent a glance to Jones. He was watching her, a frown beginning between his brows. She had a moment to send him one beseeching look before a hand grabbed her, urged her to comply. She was yanked around the other side of the column to face Shala himself.

  Ana had a moment to recognize that the days had not been particularly good to the man. Gone was the polished sheen of civility, and all that remained was a common thug who'd found himself divested of the power he'd once held.

  Which made him all the more dangerous. A man with nothing to lose, desperate to salvage something from the situation, or bent on revenge—it didn't matter which.

  He crowded her against the column pretending a lover's reunion, the blade pricking her back and a mask of malevolence stamped on his face. "You have caused me…" He shuddered in a breath. "Everything I hold dear. Because of your meddling an entire country will suffer. I really think yon should atone for that, don't you?"

  "You're going to have to run long and far when this is over, Shala." Where was Jones? Did he interpret the look she sent him? Was he on his way? "You'll be a man without a country, have you ever thought of that? One on the run across the world. What kind of life will that be?"

  "Bunei doesn't seem to think it will be a problem at all. Of course, he's already dipped into the country's treasury to cushion his new life. Me, I must start much smaller. It's only fair that you will provide some of the financing. You cost me—" his face grew mottled with rage "—everything. You'll draw out what you can from that business of yours, and then we'll see if your life is worth anything to your family."

  Ana strained her neck, scanned the area beyond his shoulder for signs of help. The area was crowded with people. Surely if she screamed, made a diversion, she could…

  "It would be a shame if you tried something clever," he said, moving back and prodding her with the knife he had up his sleeve. To all outward appearances, he was merely keeping a friendly hand around her waist. "Then, of course, it will be your fault when your friend dies."

  He pushed her toward the doors. Ana knew if they reached them, her chance for survival would drop drastically. At the same moment she saw Jones, with a man slightly behind him, heading in the same direction. He was watching her intently, his eyes strangely reassuring.

  The expression she saw in them did anything but calm her. He was planning something, she could tell. And it could well end up getting him killed. Terror rippled through her heart. She couldn't let that happen. Wouldn't let it.

  She pretended to stumble, and had an instant to watch Jones's eyes widen before the scene split with action. Whirling away from Shala, she evaded the grab he made for her and drove the palm of her hand hard upward beneath his nose. She heard screams, the sound of running feet. Shala's blood splattered. Like a dummy deprived a support, he dropped to his knees, both hands going to his face. Ana didn't wait to see more. She swung her head in Jones's direction, took a few steps and stopped. He was no longer there.

  Frantically she scanned the crowd. There was a hand at her elbow, a murmured, "Ma'am?" Without thinking she drove her elbow into the person's stomach and darted away. And straight into the arms of the man she'd been looking for.

  "Annie!"

  "Jones!" She struggled in his arms, looking, in vain, for the man she'd seen near him earlier. "We've got to get out of here."

  "Settle down." There was mingled amusement and exasperation in his voice. "We can't afford any more collateral damage."

  "Huh?" She looked at him then, finally, and he lifted a finger to point. Swinging her head in that direction she saw a bloodied Shala with his hands being cuffed behind him, and the man who had threatened Jones being held up between two others.

  "The detective scowling at you is the one you rammed in the gut. When I called the Yard this morning, I forgot to warn them you were dangerous in your own right."

  His words made no sense. She wasn't usually dense, but it was hard to concentrate on his words when she was busy looking him over to be sure he hadn't been injured. He didn't, she decided with a sense of relief, look any the worse for wear. Which was more than she could say for the man Shala had set on him. His mouth was smeared with blood and he still seemed to be only semiconscious.

  "Detectives?" She studied the men who had the two in custody. "You called the police this morning?"

  "Scotland Yard." He hadn't let go of her yet, and Ana decided not to fight the sensation. It felt too good to have this extra time in Jones's arms. Now that the excitement was over, her knees were a little weak. Or maybe that was his effect on her.

  In the next moment, though, suspicion bloomed, and she wedged her elbows against his chest to look up at him. "You expected Shala to jump us here?"

  "Not necessarily Shala, but I thought there was a possibility that someone would. I didn't see who was shooting at us yesterday, but Mashuki called the Yard after he got in the limo. I called them again today and asked for an escort to the airport. Given the far-reaching nature of this mess, they were happy to comply." His eyes were strangely intent, and he crooked a finger, ran his knuckle over her jawline. "I wasn't taking any chances with you."

  The gesture, curiously intimate, had her stomach doing cartwheels. "Hmm … well…" was the best she could do. "I guess I can appreciate a guy who plans for all contingencies."

  His expression remained serious. "Can you? Because I've been thinking…"

  "Mr. … Jones, is it?" One of the detectives came forward and interrupted them. "We need to get these guys booked. We're going to ask you both to come in to answer some questions."

  "Give us a few minutes, will you?"

  Ana's brows raised at the long look the two men exchanged, before the detective backed off, looking as though he were preparing to wait. The other three were already bustling Shala and his associate toward the entrance.

  Her gaze ping-ponged back to Jones. She hadn't seen him look this uncomfortable since … well, since the time he'd told her, without much finesse, that he wasn't interested in sharing her bed. And although he'd done just that, only a few hours ago, she could only imagine that he was preparing that goodbye she'd tried, without much particular luck, to steel herself for.

  "Look, I know what you're going to say, but there's no reason to belabor it, is there?"

  "There's not?"

  "We said it all last night." It took effort to speak around the concrete block that had settled in her ch
est. "It was fun while it lasted, but it's time to move on. That's all right. Really."

  "No, dammit, it's not all right." He bit the words out tersely, and she glanced warily at him. That muscle in his jaw was tight again. What had she said to cause that?

  "If you'll let me get a word in edgewise…" He threw another look over his shoulder at the detective, who pointedly consulted his watch. Jones shifted his back toward the man, blocking Ana from his view. "Listen, I was doing a lot of thinking last night. I didn't get much sleep."

  There was a funny jittering in her pulse. She wished she could fast-forward through this scene and get it over with. She felt as if she was going to hyperventilate. Or throw up. Or something. "I know, you spent the night planning. Good for you. I mean, calling the Yard was a great idea. Of course, you could have shared that idea with me this morning, so I didn't get the fright of my life thinking someone was going to kill you, but…" She gave a magnanimous shrug. "I guess you can't think of everything."

  He looked on the verge of explosion. "Christ alive, Annie, would you stop talking!"

  Affronted, she pulled away from him. "Fine." Couldn't he see that she was just trying to make it easier on him? Let him off the hook? She crossed her arms over her chest. He was determined to do this the hard way. Every word he uttered was going to stab that knife just a little deeper into her heart, but it appeared he wasn't going to be deterred from doing things his way.

  She only hoped she survived it without disgracing herself.

  He jammed his hand in his hair, which he hadn't tied back that morning. Actually he couldn't tie it back because she'd been unable to find the thong she'd pulled from his hair the night before. She hadn't really looked that hard. With his hair brushing his shoulders, his jaw unshaven, he looked a little untamed, a little savage. And she decided the look suited him completely.

  "I thought about what you said last night, about why I accompanied you here. It's true I'd do almost anything for Sam. But I wouldn't have done this if it weren't for you."