by Jodi Henley
“Not until this is over.”
“The hell you can’t.” She shoved past him.
The shove turned into a gasp as he grabbed her and pulled her back. Her head angled back, eyes dark and wide. There was nothing in their future but the end of the contract, but holding her like this—touching her—brought a surge of feelings Keegan had never thought to feel. He put his lips up against hers, right there on her mouth, taking her breath for his own.
And whispered, “Fuck me already.”
“You are so the last person I want to sleep with,” she said, not moving.
He felt the brush of her lips on his mouth right down to his cock. His entire body hardened, and at the sound of her involuntary groan, he almost jumped out of his skin.
A soft rustle was his only warning.
His sister stopped at the edge of the suddenly too-small clearing, Fallon at her shoulder. “We need to move. Aina three, maybe four minutes out.” Moonlight flashed off her goggles.
“This place is too dark,” Keegan said. “I can’t move fast without jeopardizing all of us.”
“Stick close, we’ll guide you. Fallon, grab the girl.”
“Can’t grab her,” said Fallon. “She’s too heavy.”
Jen stiffened. Keegan wanted to rip Fallon’s throat out with his bare hands.
“Fallon, man? How fast can you run?”
Nobody said the big jerk wasn’t smart. Fallon tipped his head in Keegan’s direction. “Why? You looking to kill me?”
Keegan pulled Jen around in front of him. “Liss, out on point. Fallon—no more remarks. Take Jen, I’ll follow.”
Corlis nodded. “Time to move.”
Jen stumbled through the darkness clinging to Fallon’s hand. She’d never imagined the Aina would attack here, of all places. Despite what Keegan thought, Aunt Katherine had the best security money could buy, which meant...the terrorists were people she knew. Friends. Maybe family. She had lots of family, and apparently no brains.
Deacon had tried to tell her, but with her usual disregard she’d glossed it over, hearing only what she wanted to hear. Years of effort gone because she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and her family cared so little for her they’d kill her with no more thought than she’d use to squash a bug. Damn it! Damn them.
How could they do this to her? And did her father know? What did he know?
Corlis kicked through a bank of sea lavender, scattering the silvery leaves everywhere. The humidity pressed down on them, piercingly sweet.
“There!” she yelled. “Behind the car—”
Fallon swore, dragging Jen like the tail on his kite. “That’s Caravaggio!”
Jen bumped to a halt. “Rafe!” Did he know? Could he help her? Was he safe to talk to? He was her friend—wasn’t he?
Corlis drew her gun. “Caravaggio! Whose side are you on?”
“My own, cara.” Rafe moved out from behind the Stalling loaner car. He had both hands out where they could see it, but his head tipped like he was listening to something. "Percy is on his way back to StallingCo. Outside security went with him.”
Keegan jerked Jen around Fallon and pushed her toward the car. “Get in, get down, seat belt on—stay low.” He spun. “Liss? Back seat. Try to block them.”
As he jumped into the driver’s seat, the Aina burst from the trees, guns waving.
Fallon scrambled into the car beside Corlis and started rolling down the window. “Move! What are you waiting for?”
Keegan threw the car into gear, spun the car in a tight circle and floored the accelerator. Headlights appeared in their rear view mirror.
Jen sucked in a shallow breath, eyes wide, as a man ran out of a small security alcove carved into the rock face, arms waving. Keegan fishtailed into the access road. Jen braced her legs against the floor, but there was too much give in the shoulder harness and she banged into her still-closed window.
Keegan boomeranged around the man and swerved out into traffic on the main road. “Get over here!”
Her hands knotted on the seat belt. “I can’t.” Her arms felt numb, and she was afraid Keegan was going to try some crazy stunt that would send her flying head first through the windshield. Within seconds, they’d started out on the first of the trestle bridges. It was worse at night because she couldn’t see. She was surrounded by nothingness, and she didn’t know whether to scream or throw up.
Keegan stomped on the brakes and jerked the wheel around, the muscles in his arms standing out in sharp relief. “They’re going to ram us.”
“Hold steady!” Fallon yelled. “Now, Liss—”
An anonymous white pickup came up on their left. The heavily tinted windows made it impossible to see inside.
Keegan was losing ground. He couldn’t push the car any faster. The pickup roared, not anywhere near their top speed. Keegan mashed his foot to the floor and pulled hard on the steering wheel, holding them steady as the car lurched to a spark-filled stop.
The truck pulled ahead, overcompensated and bounced off the guardrail, spinning around and around.
“Amateurs,” he said. “I’m dealing with fucking amateurs.”
Jen turned in her seat to look behind them. “Aren’t we going to stop?”
“We’ll stop the minute you’re secure.”
“They’re family,” Jen cried.
“They’re terrorists. They’ve found something bigger than you, honey. And you don’t mean squat.”
****
Corlis got out of the car, changed places with Keegan and drove the speed limit to one of the parking spaces that lined the Hilo bay front. Fallon watched the rear view mirror, holding his gun down between his knees.
This thing between them wasn’t going to work, and not just because she had had bad role models, but because she was scared and being scared pissed her off. She twisted her hands around the steering wheel, nails digging into the fancy rubber grip. Light glimmered through the ironwood trees as she threw the car into park. The bay was flat and dark, heaving like oil in a water jar.
Jen threw her door open, jacked up her dress and stuck her head between her knees, breathing like she couldn’t get enough air. “My family wants to kill me. They killed Terri, they're…the Aina," her voice cracked. "I thought they'd be strangers."
The betrayal must have hit like a ton of bricks. When had she started to like the little pouter pigeon?
“You’re wheezing,” Corlis said shortly.
Jen took a long, gasping breath. “Hyperventilating. Give me...a second.”
Damned if she didn’t admire the girl. Keegan had succeeded in making the Aina reveal themselves and Jen needed a second? She was tougher than she looked.
Fallon flipped her one of his hard candies. “Good for nausea,” he said.
Corlis could still taste them, butterscotch and heat, and Fallon’s tongue touching hers for the first time. She pulled at her collar.
“Candy?” asked Jen.
“It's butterscotch,” said Fallon.
For a long second Corlis just wanted the whole thing over, Jen gone, Connor back, and Fallon somewhere far away. He turned away from her, staring out the window. Corlis looked forward and spotted a group of men as they maneuvered an outrigger canoe through a space in the trees. The long wooden hull slid out of sight and down the beach with a loud swish.
“It’s a canoe club,” said Jen. She unwrapped the candy and worked it in her mouth. “People are busy during the day, so they practice at night. Thanks,” she said, indicating the candy.
Fallon nodded. “I’d like to try that.”
“You want to join a canoe club?” asked Corlis. That came out wrong. She could tell it came out wrong.
“Unlike you, I have a freaking life,” said the man who’d once been her best friend.
Keegan leaned forward, between the front seats, creating a barrier between Corlis and Fallon. “Did you get the plates?”
Corlis raked a hand through her sweat-spiked hair. “Why bother? It’l
l just turn out to be stolen.”
“And if it isn’t? Just because we would have stolen a car doesn’t mean they would. Don’t you see? We can’t get a handle on these guys because we’re treating them like professionals when they aren’t. They’re amateurs. We need to dumb it down.”
Fallon straightened, coming out of his slouch. “The Aina are connected big-time. Cops, coming this way.”
Corlis glanced at the approaching lights. “We can take them.”
Her brother shook his head. “We don’t take cops. We don’t even know they’re looking for you. If they have any descriptions it’d be of Jen. Maybe me.”
“Fair haired man. Woman in a long pink dress,” said Fallon.
Keegan met his eyes. “Yeah.”
He threw open the door, pulled Jen out of her seat and into the back seat with him, while Fallon ran around to take Jen’s seat. “Get out of your dress and put this on.” He pushed his shirt at her. “That thing is a goddamned beacon.”
Chapter Eight
Jen stripped the heavy pink fabric over her head and kicked it under the seat. She had the most incredible bra, all satin and white lace. Keegan could see her nipples pushing out against the thin fabric and wondered if anyone knew he was losing his mind imagining what they tasted like.
“What if they have our plates?” she asked, eyeing his shirt dubiously.
The soft black fabric covered her to mid-thigh. Just what the doctor ordered, a sack. Had he really asked her to fuck him? If he had some deeply-buried masochistic streak, it’d picked a fine time to reveal itself.
“Then we’re screwed,” he said. “Try not to hit me, we can’t afford the down time.”
“Sorry,” she whispered back.
He pulled her up over him, arranging her carefully. “Get that hair thing off,” he said, tugging at her braid.
Waves of hair cascaded over his face and lips, soft and sweet. Oh Jesus, it was an instant turn-on with no way to hide his reaction to her. “Part your legs,” he whispered, eyes scrunched tight.
“Better?”
Hell, yeah.
“Stay still,” he gritted. “They’re going to be checking out the cars, and my hair color is a dead giveaway.”
He had to struggle not to let his sister hear him squirm. Although from the lack of noise in the front seat, maybe she was getting busy with Fallon. Jen must have thought the same thing, because the look she gave him danced with laughter. A hundred times better than the pain she’d been carrying since she found out about the Aina. He turned his face into her palm.
She was as aware of him as he was of her, but the light filtering into the car reflected her knowledge that they were stupid to even think about their mutual attraction. Her intelligence was a given, but her nipples were hard. Logic had nothing to do with it. He wanted her, she wanted him, and he was going to explode if he didn’t touch her. Light flashed into the car, catching him by surprise.
He tightened his arms around her, pressing his lips into the hollow of her throat. Her ass jerked up in the air, and it looked like she was about to go down on him. She couldn’t have made a better move if she’d rehearsed it. The cops moved off fast. No voyeurs there. Thank God.
“Keegan?” Corlis poked his leg. “Get up. They’re gone.”
Keegan sat up slowly, letting his hands slid down over Jen’s back to cup her hips. He was not going to touch her ass. Not. Going to touch.
“Yeah,” he said, gathering his thoughts. “You’d better, uh...get dressed.”
He pulled Jen’s dress out from under the front seat and shoved it at her with fingers that didn’t want to move. She handed him his shirt in exchange and tugged her dress back over her head. This whole fatal attraction thing he had going was all up in his head. She might want him, but it was obviously something she could control.
“You suspect the police?” she asked.
Fallon slung an arm over the back of his seat. “We suspect everyone and anything.” His eyes glittered pale and hot behind a tangle of black hair. “Terrorists are people, and they have connections just like everyone else. That they’re homegrown makes it more likely they’ll corrupt the people around them.”
Jen squeezed over on her side of the seat. “How can you protect me if you don’t know who you’re protecting me from?”
“That’s why we get paid the big bucks,” said Corlis. Her lips were swollen and there was a faint flush on her pale cheeks. “We don’t just protect you. We find the bad guys and eliminate the threat.”
“As in kill?”
“Hopefully it won’t go that far,” said Keegan. He watched the panic ease out of Jen’s eyes. He’d never felt anything remotely like what he was feeling for her and he didn’t like it. He’d planned to stir up trouble, but shit—he’d never expected a link right back to StallingCo.
“Jen’s right,” said Fallon. “We’ve got to ditch the car.”
“Suggestions?” asked Keegan.
Corlis turned in her seat, hands locked around the headrest. “We go back to her house. Grab the rental. It’s generic enough. Dump this tank. I created backup just in case. Campground in the park. Cabin. Some weird name. Duck crossing?”
Jen nodded. “Goose crossing, I know where it is. There’s a sinkhole near the entrance to my subdivision. We can hide the car in it.” Her smile came and went all too fast. “Maybe it’ll buy us some time.”
****
Jen leaned back in her seat, letting the headache play out across her forehead. It was painfully apparent that Corlis had control issues. She'd dumped the car, drove the rental and stopped for groceries with all the efficiency of a machine. Anyone who tried to get in her way was slated for a messy removal.
A public service announcement broke into the death-metal programming, explaining eruption etiquette. “...visibility from...HVO geologists ask that spectators please remain...”
Corlis swerved to avoid a group of tourists. The flash of white athletic socks jogging across the road toward a cluster of lawn chairs pushed in among the tightly-packed trees obviously startled her.
“What the—”
“We’re on the outskirts of the park,” said Jen. “The land falls away just through those trees. Six of the ten active vents are visible from the shoulder.” She rolled her head back and closed her eyes. “All adults were children first.”
Fallon grunted, “You mean they like fireworks.”
Jen shivered. The night was cold, and her cotton gown was no match for the high-altitude chill. “You read?”
He made a noncommittal sound, pulled his hood up over his eyes, and sank back in his seat. She wondered how he’d feel if she asked to borrow his coat, if old blood smelled, and how on earth he’d managed to get through her aunt’s cordon without drawing attention to himself and his partner.
“St. Ex,” said Fallon. “Yeah, I like him.”
Corlis drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “There are a bunch of terrorists after us and you want to talk philosophy? Get a grip.”
Fallon didn’t move. “Could be why we don't talk.”
The temperature in the car dropped below the freezing point. “Fuck you.”
Fallon sat up, shaggy hair tangled over the glitter in his eyes. “Go on, Liss. Push me.”
The car bumped off the side of the road. Corlis turned in her seat, eyes hard in the light from the instrument panel while Fallon radiated mad like a supernova.
Jen didn’t want to like any of the DalCon operatives, but she liked Fallon. The tall Southerner reminded her of her cousin, Tris. But where Tris was ice, Fallon was fire. He turned away, eyes closed and Corlis drove the rest of the way with her mouth clamped tight.
They pulled up in front of a cluster of tiny cabins with Corlis counting the rough-hewn signs for the one she’d reserved. The silence between the two DalCon operatives was volatile, and more than once Jen started to say something, only to have Keegan stop her.
“That one,” said Corlis.
Nobody said a word.
The shingled wooden A-frame was set back from the road in a eucalyptus clearing at the very edge of the campground. There were lights on in the other cabins, and people moving in and out of the tents pitched around the shared picnic tables. Music came from a group of people relaxing around a campfire.
It was all so normal.
Jen blinked back a rush of tears. There were families out there with kids and not a stuffed quail egg in sight. And if somebody had a brother, they were more likely to show up with a six-pack rather than a security detail.
Keegan let her get out on her own, standing just to her left in case someone came running out of the bushes to chop her head off. Jen wiped at her eyes and tried not to let it bother her when he dumped her on Fallon and took off with his sister, both of them walking side by side with the ease of long practice.
Fallon herded her up the shallow flight of stairs, checked out the cabin and held the door with old-fashioned courtesy. “Get some rest while you can. You don’t know what all’s going to happen. It’s clean, and we’ll be safe here until they send out search parties.”
Jen wobbled over the threshold and fell. Fallon caught her, his sudden movement making something slide out from under his shirt.
Jen caught the long ball-link chain. “What’s this?”
He flushed darkly. “Nothing.”
His heavily muscled arm set her back on her feet easily.
“Return to sender,” Jen read. “C. Dalfrey. They’re dog tags?”
Fallon tucked the chain back in. “I said they were nothing.”
“They’re a statement of ownership.”
“Nobody owns me, baby.”
“If that’s what you want to believe.”
He glared at her, pain in the depths of his pale blue eyes. “I more than don’t believe it, Ms. Stalling. I know it for a fact.”
Chapter Nine
Jen, sprawled on her belly, one hand curled under her cheek. There were three beds in the cabin, but she occupied the biggest. The tiny bedroom at the back contained the other two in the form of a couple of stripped down twins shoved in the corner to form a lumpy square. Corlis took one look at the amenities, threw her jacket on the floor and fell back on the antique ticking, both arms up over her eyes.