by Lyn Stone
Suddenly he stilled. He released her and backed away as far as he could with her hands fisted in the back of his shirt. “Martine?”
“Umm?” She clung to him, her body still seeking.
“Somebody’s at your door,” he murmured between kisses. “I don’t think they’re going away.”
The doorbell was buzzing, an insistent staccato as someone punched it repeatedly. How had she not heard that?
Reluctantly, she uncurled her fingers and let him go. “Must be Matt,” she said with a heavy sigh of frustration. “Sorry.”
When she looked through the peephole, she saw she was right. He must have been nearby, calling from his cell phone.
“Tell me you didn’t go where I think you went!” he demanded the minute she opened the door. “You were supposed to hotfoot it back here if I was even a day late returning to Bogotá! Dammit, you weren’t here when I finally made it back yesterday and I was getting ready to fly back down there!”
He had pushed in past her, the cast on his foot thumping against her hardwood floor.
His hand flew to his weapon the instant he spied Joe.
Martine grabbed his arm and gave him a pinch. “Matt, behave.”
Matt’s assessing gaze flew back and forth between them. Joe had moved behind the kitchen counter, probably to hide his arousal, and was calmly sipping his wine.
“Hey, Duquesne,” he said. “How’s it going?”
“Am I…interrupting something?” Matt asked, his voice tight with disapproval.
Martine pinched him again. “Yes, you are. And I’ll pay you back. Count on it.”
He turned on her, ignoring Joe. “Sebastian’s gonna fire your little ass, you know that? He swore if I was right and you’d gone into the middle of that mess alone, you were through at Ames. Terminated.”
She smiled sweetly. “Maybe not. Corda’s back in one piece. I’m okay. No problem. Want some wine? We were just about to order pizza.” She closed the door and headed back to the kitchen.
She had almost reminded him that he was the one who failed to bring Joe home. He was the one who broke his leg and was late making the rendezvous in Bogotá. But she had to hold her tongue. If anyone could talk Sebastian around to keeping her on, it would be Matt.
“Wait a minute! I want to know exactly what happened.” He seemed to remember Joe then and stopped. “What the hell’s he doing here with you?”
“He followed me home. Can I keep him?”
“Damn you, Martine!”
She admitted Matt had reason to be upset, but she wasn’t about to apologize. Still, an explanation might be in order. “Look, you were overdue coming back. I couldn’t contact you. Sebastian was…out of pocket, and Nestor was, well, you know where. There was no one else left to go looking for you. And for Joe, of course. So I went.”
He looked ready to explode, speechless and fuming. Sebastian would be worse, she knew. And he would not be speechless. Better if she downplayed the whole mission.
She rubbed Matt’s forearm and squeezed it gently, soothing where she had given him the sisterly pinches. “Look, Matt, I’m home now. Everything turned out fine. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m sorry I upset you, okay?”
He looked over at Joe and expelled the breath he was holding. “I guess I should thank you for getting her out of there, Corda.”
Joe glanced at her and smiled, took another sip of his wine and set down the glass. “Getting her out? Are you kidding? If she hadn’t been such a great shot, I’d be rotting in the woods right now. She’s a real piece of work, your sister.”
Martine’s breath caught in her throat. Joe must think he was helping.
Mart’s mouth had dropped open. He snapped it shut, then said very quietly, “She…shot somebody?”
Joe shrugged and leaned forward, resting on the counter. “Oh yeah, I lost count how many.” He shook his head as he pretended to count. “Fourteen, fifteen…can’t say for sure. Then when the chopper blew up, and we had to run for it, she really showed her stuff.” He held up the short lock of hair he’d brushed down over the graze on his forehead. “Dazed me big-time.”
Matt continued to gape.
Joe went on, picking up his wine again. “Hell, man, she carried me half the way to the airport, fed me to get my strength back and hauled our butts out of there on the first plane. Never seen anything like it. Girl’s a wonder. I owe her my life.” He tossed her a sappy look of gratitude over the rim of his glass.
She was going to kill him.
“Matt, he’s exaggerating. I promise you…” She broke off when she saw his expression of pure disbelief. “What’s the matter? Don’t you think I’m capable of that? Of…of what he said?”
Matt turned without a word and slammed out of the apartment. They heard him thumping down the stairs. She rounded on Joe, throwing up her hands in sheer frustration. “What the devil did you think you were doing? You probably got me fired, you know that? I wanted him to think…”
What had she wanted Matt to think? What had she expected when she set out on this venture? That Matt and Sebastian would be so delighted when she’d proved her self, they would promote her to field work permanently. She slumped against the nearest armchair and blew out a sigh.
Joe came over and grasped her shoulders. He bent just a bit so that his face was right in front of hers. “So I beefed it up a little. They won’t fire you, Martine. You really did save my life. You got me out. Maybe Matt’s just ticked off because I refused to get out when he tried to get me to, and then I came back with you. What you did was well-planned and executed right down to the last detail. They can’t possibly argue with your results.”
She shrugged, but she couldn’t agree with him there. Matt and Sebastian would argue all right. And Sebastian Ames would probably terminate her employment immediately because she had seriously overstepped and gone way beyond her job description. But that was a worry for Monday morning. Not tonight.
She dismissed it for now. “I’ll handle it. Let’s forget about it for now and get that pizza. You call it in. I need to… God, I need that glass of wine.”
He laughed, straightened to his full height and planted a playful kiss on top of her head. “Lighten up. Before I’m done, they’ll be giving you a citation and a raise.”
“Joe, please!” When he turned, eyebrow raised in question, she continued, “Please, don’t do me any more favors.”
He walked back over, his gait lazy, his dark eyes gleaming wickedly. She stood while his hands cradled her face and his lips met hers. The kiss had a different flavor than those Matt had interrupted. This one tasted like gratitude, something she appreciated, but not right now.
She raised on tiptoe and increased the pressure, pulling him to her, hoping to regain ground lost by Mart’s unfortunate interruption.
Joe pushed away and smiled down at her. “No, Martine. Not now.”
“Why not?” Her breath shuddered out, causing the words to wobble. Like her knees.
“Because I don’t want to be a player in your little rebellion, that’s why.” He looked amused, but she sensed he meant it. “I admit I was all for this before your brother showed up, but I’ve changed my mind. I sense you’re not a one-night stander, Martine. To tell you the truth, neither am I.” He gave her a grim smile. “At least not any more.”
“Fine,” she snapped, angry with herself for revealing how much she wanted him. He obviously had more control and wasn’t nearly as affected by their mutual attraction. “Forget it.”
He slid his hands down her arms and clutched the hands she had fisted. “No, I’m not about to forget. But I think I will postpone until I know it’s me you really want. It looks like you’re still trying to prove something here. Maybe show your father you’re no different than your brother, even if you are female?” He paused and sighed. “Dangerous work and casual sex. Not what a woman usually leaps at unless there’s a reason.”
“Spare me your pop psychology. I told you my father’s dead!”
>
“Yeah, but he’s still dictating what you do in a way, making you feel you have to be everything your brother is. If it means anything to you, I don’t think you’d ever have turned out a wimp, Martine. Not under any circumstances. But I don’t think I want to be a party to establishing your thrill-a-minute lifestyle. Nobody likes being used.”
“Used? Why, you…” She jerked her hand free and almost slugged him. He was waiting for it, but she stopped just in time. Taking a deep breath, she released it slowly, unclenched her fists and regained a little of her tattered dignity. “I think you had better leave.”
He nodded and stepped through the door, but turned back to face her. “I should. And I’m going to. It’s not that I don’t want you, Martine. I want you too much.”
“It was just a few kisses, Corda. Get over yourself.” She held his gaze, willing herself not to shake.
“I wish you had wanted more than a night’s worth.” He frowned thoughtfully as he paused again. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever said that to a woman before?”
She slammed the door in his face and then leaned against it.
Oh God, could he be right about her?
Joe walked to the nearest gas station and called a cab. The ride seemed long. And sad. He had met the one woman he could really go for in a big way, but he couldn’t take her on the terms she offered.
He almost had, physically at least. Only seeing her as some guy’s sister had made him stop and think how he would feel if it were one of his own crazy little sisters in her place and Matt Duquesne were the one doing the seducing.
He had also told Martine the absolute truth, how he felt about being used. If she wanted him for real, not just what he represented, then maybe he could handle it. Or maybe it was the excuse he had needed to let her go.
He knew Martine didn’t realize she was still riding the adrenaline high. True, her heartbeat might have slowed down to almost normal. But the fever of success, the exhilaration of defeating death was clouding her judgment more than she knew. He’d been there, right where she was. As recently as a half hour ago.
Once she settled down, figured things out, she’d be relieved that he hadn’t stayed tonight. His body was still humming with arousal. He would probably spend some sleepless nights between now and the time he got over her.
Forty minutes later, Joe arrived back at the airport to book his flight to D.C. He was paying the cab driver while scanning his surroundings out of habit. It was mere chance that he caught sight of the all-too-familiar profile of Carlos Humberto as he and two associates entered a taxi.
Shock at seeing a dead man walking held Joe immobile for all of two seconds. Then he spent another few kicking himself for not climbing into that ravine and checking the body for signs of life after Martine shot the bastard. Humberto had to have been wearing a Kevlar vest.
Humberto couldn’t have been right on their tail coming out of Bogotá. He would have had his hands full then arranging his own escape. But he was here now and there could only be one reason for his being here in Atlanta. He knew where to find Martine.
Joe jumped back in the cab and headed straight back to her, praying Humberto had not somehow discovered her home address.
He arrived, slung a fistful of bills at the driver as he leaped out of the cab, and tore up the steps at top speed. He had no weapons other than his hands and a stupid pocket knife. If Humberto had beat him here, he knew they had little chance of surviving.
After all he and Martine had done to the man, Humberto would have a vendetta going that no one could reason with. He would be out for blood, because there was nothing left for him to be after. Not the money, not the drugs and no possible restitution of his former life at all. Nothing but revenge.
Chapter 5
“Martine! Open up!” he called, banging on the door with his fist, punching the doorbell repeatedly.
He stopped when he heard her—at least he hoped it was her—sliding the chain off the lock. The breath he was holding huffed out when she swung the door open. “Let’s go!” he ordered, grabbing her by the wrist.
“What?” She dug in her heels.
“Humberto’s here. I saw him at the airport. If he knows where you are, we’ve got to get the hell out of here. Do you have a weapon?”
She nodded, looking dumbstruck by his news. He noticed for the first time that she was only wearing a nightshirt.
“Give me your gun. I’ll stand watch while you grab some clothes. Make it snappy. And bring a cell phone.”
To her credit, she grasped the urgency of the situation and flew to follow orders. He did a hurried check of the Glock she shoved into his hands. The feel of it soothed him a little.
Humberto and his friends would also have to find a way to arm themselves before coming here. They could not have brought weapons on the plane. With the spot checks of baggage, it would have been too dangerous to risk arrest. No, they would either have contacts here who could furnish weapons or they would steal them.
Several minutes crawled by as Joe stood in the shadows outside her door, peering into the night, every nerve on edge. He shuddered to think what might have happened if he’d not gone back to the airport. And with the size of that airport, he could so easily have missed seeing Humberto at all. Hell, he had thought they were home free.
“Let’s roll,” Martine said, handing him the sports bag he had left behind earlier and the overnight bag she had packed for herself. She pulled the door closed behind her, keys in hand. She had donned a pair of dark-brown slacks and a matching silk blouse. Her leather shoes were flat-heeled, stylish but practical. She wore a brown sweater draped over her shoulders, the sleeves tied in front. Very preppy, he thought. So not her.
He followed her to a dark Jeep Cherokee parked in the well-lit lot nearby, where she popped the locks with the remote and went straight to the driver’s side.
Joe almost demanded she relinquish the keys, but told himself she knew the city better than he did. He climbed in the passenger side and took the small bag she’d brought with her into his lap. “Your cell phone in this thing?”
“Big pocket on the side.”
He fished it out.
“Call Matt. Speed dial 2,” she ordered.
Joe was already shaking his head and punching at the numbers on the little instrument. “If ol’ Hummy knew where you’d be, he knows where your brother is. We’ll give Matt a heads-up, but we aren’t going there.”
“Then where?” she demanded.
Joe put the phone to his ear and waited. A message machine on the other end spat out the number of the duty agent for the local office. He tapped it in and waited some more. A woman answered. “Cunningham.”
“Agent Cunningham. Joe Corda from the D.C. office here.” He hesitated as she asked how she could be of help. How could she? How could he explain that he’d just come off an assignment he’d thought completed and found himself and a civilian being chased by a drug lord who had serious retribution on his agenda?
“Do you recognize the name Carlos Humberto? From Colombia?” he asked her.
“No. Do you need some information concerning this individual?”
“I have more info than I need, thanks. But look him up. He’s just arrived in your city with two of his men. This is a seriously disturbed individual with murder on his mind and he has local contacts. I have reason to believe he will show up shortly at the LeJardin apartments, unit 205, loaded for bear. Get all the backup you can and take him down.”
She cleared her throat. “Agent…Carter, is it?”
He spelled his name. “Listen to me, please. Humberto’s entire operation in Colombia has just been shut down. He’s mad as hell and about to wreak some serious havoc. Are you with me on this?”
Another small hesitation. “I have no immediate way to verify what you’re saying, sir. Or even who you are. If you want to leave a number, I’ll contact my superior, meet him at the office and get back to you.”
Joe gritted his teeth and banged his
head back against the headrest. “Look, lady, I’ve just delivered what amounts to the collar of the century. Can you handle this or not?”
“As soon as I have contacted and coordinated with my office and yours, of course I can,” she snapped. “But I can’t very well commit agents to this without some sort of—”
“Thanks anyway,” Joe snapped and punched the Off button. He quickly hit the speed dial for Matt Duquesne, who answered immediately.
“Duquesne? Listen up. Humberto’s here. I saw him at the airport and have reason to believe he’s after us. I’ll keep Martine out of his reach. Call in some troops, do what you gotta do. He knew what Martine was doing in Colombia so he’ll know about Ames and its employees. Watch yourself.”
“Where are you?” Duquesne demanded.
“On the move. We’ll be in touch.”
“If you let him within a mile of Martine, I’ll—”
“Save your breath, okay? We’re not planning to make a stand and shoot it out with him. We’re headed for D.C. She’ll be safe with me.”
He rang off before her brother could argue that. And there were several arguments that would be valid. For now, Joe intended to do precisely what he’d promised Matt. He’d keep Martine and himself alive and reach familiar territory where he could depend on getting help from either DEA or Sextant. Or both.
He had no clue how many contacts Humberto actually had Stateside, but there was no point waiting around for some of them to show up.
“I’m not going to Washington with you,” Martine declared, slowing the car to an unreasonable speed for the six-lane they were on.
He shot her a steely look. “Don’t you test my determination, Martine. Put the pedal down and get us out of this city.” When she scoffed, he shouted, “Do it now!”
She gunned the accelerator so hard, his neck almost snapped. “I can’t believe you’re running,” she said.
“You damn well better believe it. Our little Humbuddy probably knows a hell of a lot more people in Atlanta than I do. Maybe more than you do. And they’ll still be believing they have to depend on him for their steady supply of dope. By the time the people here get the word he’s history with the cartel in Colombia, we could be dead as last week’s catch.”