by Jana DeLeon
Jake laughed. "You get no argument from me there. If you're done in the bathroom, I say we get the hell out of here while our luck is holding."
"All done." Mallory smiled at Jake and felt some of the tension leave her body. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was something as simple as Silas cheating. The voodoo doll was just a desperate attempt from a superstitious man.
It didn't mean a thing.
Finding the hallway clear - no Brad, no Silas, no other surprises Jake breathed a sigh of relief. Motioning to Mallory, they crept out of the room, careful to quietly pull the door shut behind them. They slipped silently down the hallway and into the stairwell, then hurried down a full flight before stopping to breathe.
"I can't believe we pulled it off," Jake said, unable to control his elation.
Mallory nodded. "Yeah, but there's a lot of things we're dealing with now - like the whole ATF angle. What are you going to do about that?"
"I don't know and at the moment, I don't care." He grinned at her. "Do you realize that we've got the first lead on Mark that I've had in weeks, and we've most likely figured out how Silas was cheating? We can beat him, Mallory. We will both get what we need out of this."
Mallory smiled back at him. "Yeah, I guess I haven't taken the time to think about the accomplishments, only the new problems."
"Well, stop thinking. We'll have plenty of time to worry later." He took her hand in his and stepped closer to her. "I really appreciate everything you've done for me, Mallory. It would have been so much easier on you to get rid of Silas yesterday and be on your merry way with the money for Harry's business. Don't think for a minute that I don't know that."
Mallory shook her head. "I couldn't let Silas get away. All my life I've heard how bad he was. This is my chance to help get rid of him once and for all. Besides, I couldn't let your partner's wife and kid go on wondering what happened to him. That wouldn't be right."
Jake took another step toward her until their bodies were almost touching. He reached up to touch a tendril of her hair. "Brave, intelligent and highly principled ... do you have any flaws, Mallory Devereaux?"
Mallory laughed softly. "You have to ask?"
Jake smiled. "Okay, so one flaw, but at least things are never dull." He lowered his head to hers and murmured, "This should wear off by tomorrow."
A shock wave rolled through his body as their lips touched, almost like an electrical current. Never had a woman's touch made him feel so much, created an ache inside him that had never been there before. He deepened the kiss, mingling his tongue with hers, tasting the sweetness of her mouth. He wanted to touch every inch of her, with his hands, his mouth.
He slid one hand under her shirt, knowing her breasts would be open to his touch, free from restricting garments with complicated openings. She stiffened slightly as his hand slid over her ribcage to cup her breast. He palmed the first one, feeling himself harden as his hand slid over her silky skin. When he rubbed his thumb across the already extended nipple, she moaned, and he almost lost it.
"I want you," he whispered. "Here and now, I want you."
"The others," Mallory argued weakly. "They might catch us."
Jake dropped his kiss to the hollow of her neck, still stroking her engorged nipple. "No one will be looking for us here. Besides, the stairwell is locked. And believe me, this is not going to take a long time. I'm too far gone for you, Mallory. I don't have much self-control left."
Mallory laughed. "And that's supposed to turn me on-admitting that you'll be the five-minute man?"
Jake pulled away from her a bit and smiled. "Knowing what you do to me turns you on. I can see it in your eyes. Consider me a work in progress. After all, if we don't get it perfect the first time, we'll have to keep working at it, right?"
Mallory dropped one hand from his shoulder and barely brushed it across the front of his jeans. "Then let's hear it for mediocrity."
He groaned and locked his lips on hers again, pushing her back against the cement wall.
She broke off the kiss and gave him a playful laugh, wagging one finger in his face. "Oh no. You've been in charge of everything since I met you. It's time for me to call the shots."
Jake laughed. "You think I've been in charge? I must have missed that part, but by all means, Ms. Devereaux, please have your way with me."
She ran one hand across his crotch, this time stronger, with more purpose, then gave him a wicked grin and began to lower herself down in front of him.
As Mallory dropped another inch down the wall, Jake saw the collar of her jacket rising behind her and realized it was caught on something on the wall. He could only see part of the label, but the words "In case of fire" were enough to cause panic. Too late, he reached for her, trying to stop her descent, as a single click came from the wall behind her. Mallory looked up, both worry and confusion on her face.
Then all hell broke loose.
Water rushed out of the spout in the ceiling, soaking them both. A second later, the fire alarm went off and deafened them with its shrill sirens. They both froze for a moment, until the shout of voices all over the hotel set them into action.
"Down!" Jake spun around and rushed down the stairs, Mallory close behind. "We can't go all the way to the first floor or we'll definitely be caught," he said as they ran. "We'll have to get off on two and find a place to hide."
Above them, the stairwell door opened, and they heard Brad's voice shouting, "That better not be you, McMillan!"
They hit the landing for the second floor, flung open the door and rushed into the hallway, desperately hoping they wouldn't run into anyone they were trying to avoid. A sea of people hurried past them headed for the stairwell.
"There's a fire!" one of them yelled as he passed. "You need to evacuate."
Jake pulled the credit card from his pocket. "Will this work on another room?"
Mallory shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe."
Jake stepped to the first door and slid the card into the scanner. "These rooms are probably empty with everyone evacuating. It's only a one-story drop from the balcony."
Red light.
"Damn!" He slid the card again with the same result. Meanwhile, the shouts on the stairwell had turned from those of frightened patrons to that of a very angry Brad.
"Try again. We're running out of time!"
Jake slid the card again, holding his breath as he watched the indicator.
Green light.
"We're in!" he shouted as he pushed the door open and rushed inside, Mallory right on his heels.
It only took them a moment to realize the room wasn't empty, but the sight in front of them took way longer to register. Reginald St. Claire stood at the foot of a kingsized bed, wearing a French maid outfit, complete with fishnet hose and black FMPs. The woman standing on the bed was barely three feet tall, wearing a black leather outfit and mask, complete with metal studs and a matching whip.
Jake stared at the casino owner, not sure whether to try to explain or pretend not to recognize him at all. Either way, keeping Reginald in the dark about the hotel adventure was going to be impossible.
"Maintenance," Jake shouted, latching onto the first thing he could come up with. "There's a problem with your patio door." He reached back and grabbed Mallory, shoving her in front of him and hoping she didn't stop long enough to look too closely. His hopes were dashed when she ran around him, then came to a screeching halt.
"Oh, my God," Mallory gasped. "I thought they were joking."
Hands on her shoulders, Jake propelled her past the sideshow in front of them and onto the balcony. "I don't even want to know. Let's just get the hell out of here."
Mallory rushed out onto the balcony and flipped over the railing, dropping into the bushes below. Jake crossed to the other side of the railing, casting one final glance behind him as he did. St. Claire and the woman still hadn't moved, both of them staring at him as he let go of the railing and hoped the bushes below didn't have prickly leaves.
He
bent his knees all the way down as he connected with the ground, hoping to prevent any long-term damage from their circus flight. Mallory was already out of the bushes and running across the narrow strip of lawn. He started to yell at her to come back when he realized Scooter's battered truck was racing across the parking lot toward them. He pushed himself up and ran behind her. Both of them dove into the bed of the pickup truck, which had slowed just enough for them to jump in. Scooter squealed out of the parking lot and away from the hotel, yelling out the window that he'd gotten to do the Dale Earnhardt thing, after all.
As soon as Scooter exited the main highway, he stopped long enough for Mallory and Jake to climb out of the bed of the truck and into the cab. Even though the leather seats in the back of Scooter's cab were cracked in places and the support sagged in spots, Mallory knew it had to be more comfortable than the bed of the truck. But she was so exhausted by the night's events that she hardly noticed a difference as she slid inside.
Which was a shame, really, when you considered just how much energy she'd had in the stairwell. Apparently, running from criminals and the feds and seeing your uncle in a dress had a way of sapping the strength right out of you.
They filled in Scooter and Amy on the duplicate deck of cards during the ride back home, but neither Mallory nor Jake broached the subject of the ATF, or Jake's partner, and definitely nothing to do with Reginald, or little people or maids. Even her good leather jacket was looking like a great candidate for Goodwill.
It was dark by the time they pulled into the driveway, and Mallory desperately craved a hot shower and a cool bed. Amy had already announced her intention to stay the night for protection, so even if Mallory had any sexual tension left, it was going to have to wait. Not that she was entirely clear who was doing the protecting, either. Because unless they were having a calculus contest, Amy wasn't any match for the people Mallory had run into.
Jake thanked her friends for all their help, nodded at her and jumped in his rental car. Giving Mallory a long lingering look, he backed out of the driveway and waved as he headed down the road to the highway.
Mallory watched until his taillights faded in the distance, yelled good night to Scooter, who was already stepping onto his front porch, and walked toward her own cabin, where Amy had disappeared minutes before.
Amy was sitting on the couch bed, perched on one side and clutching a huge bag of potato chips. "I hope you don't mind," she said. "All this Spies R Us has made me hungry."
Mallory laughed. "I have roast beef in the fridge. Why don't you make us both a sandwich while I take a shower. I think that bush molested me. I'm all itchy."
Amy jumped off the bed. "Supper will be ready when you return."
Mallory slipped into the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind her, turning the lock. It wasn't likely that someone with Amy's upbringing would come barging in on her, but she wasn't taking any chances. She opened the closet door and dug around the back until she found an empty box. Open box on the floor in front of her, she reached inside her jacket and pulled out the voodoo doll.
She wondered how something so simple could bring out such fear in her. Aside from her bad luck, she'd always been a rational person. Why would something so unproven, so bound to superstitions of the ignorant, scare her this way?
She tore her gaze from the doll, closed it in the shoe box, and shoved the box into the back of her closet. Answers weren't going to come standing in her bathroom, and the last thing she needed to do with everything on the line was spook herself. Like she wasn't already halfway there.
A quick pass through the shower and a set of clean clothes made her feel physically more comfortable even if mentally, it hadn't been much help. By the time she returned to the living room, Amy was already propped up on the roll-out bed, clutching a huge roast beef sandwich. She pointed to another plate on the end table and Mallory grabbed the sandwich before plopping down on the other side of the rollout.
"So?" Amy asked as she chewed.
Mallory looked over at her friend and shook her head. "Didn't your momma teach you not to talk with your mouth full?"
Amy gave her the finger and swallowed. "Yeah, she taught me not to do that too. It's a good thing I met you when I did-it was almost too late to reverse all that charm-school learning." She batted her eyes at Mallory and plastered a beauty-queen smile on her face.
Mallory laughed. "If your mother knew half the things you've picked up from me, she might lose a bit of charm herself - at least long enough to shoot me."
Amy grinned. "Now that would be a sight - Mother with a weapon. The closest thing I've ever seen to that was when she used one of her designer shoes to kill a bug. Then she swore me to silence."
"What's wrong with killing a bug?"
"Ladies are not supposed to involve themselves in anything rough, even bug killing. She should have called a servant to take care of it."
"Are you sure you weren't adopted?"
"Mom would like to think so, but it was a natural birth, so her memory's real clear." Amy swallowed the last bite of her sandwich and turned on the rollout to face Mallory. "So what else did you find? And no holding back. There were an awful lot of people scrambling in that hotel when the alarm went off, and they weren't all running for the exit. I'm not about to believe that all of them belonged to Silas."
"They probably didn't." Mallory looked her friend straight in the eyes. "You absolutely cannot repeat what I'm about to tell you."
Amy nodded. "Promise."
Mallory told her what they'd learned from Brad.
"Oh, my God," Amy said when Mallory was done. "What about the box of guns Scooter found in the storeroom. Is Reginald in on the dealing?"
"Brad says no, and I believe him."
"But then why have the guns?"
"I'm hoping to God the guns belong to the ATF, because I don't really want to consider any alternatives."
Amy set down her sandwich and stared out the window for a couple of seconds, then turned back to Mallory. "I just can't believe it. It's so HBO feature film. I mean, you knew he was up to something, but good grief, how many federal agents are occupying the same square footage in a hole-in-the-wall in Louisiana? It's a statistical anomaly."
"My whole life is a statistical anomaly. Why would this be any different?"
"You know, with that alarm going off in the hotel, all those guys are going to be on high alert - the good guys and the bad guys - not that it's all that easy to tell them apart at the moment. I bet none of them chalk it up to coincidence."
"Probably not."
"That ATF guy, Brad, he's going to know it was you and Jake."
"He's going to think it was us. He's not going to have any proof."
Amy sighed. "What a mess. And you tried to tell me, Mallory. I'm sorry I didn't come to you before I signed up."
"What's done is done."
"I guess you're right, but what a disaster." Amy closed her eyes for a moment, as if in prayer, then opened them again and stared at the ceiling. "Hey," she said finally. "What do you think set off that alarm anyway? I never saw any smoke at all."
Oh there was smoke all right. And fire, but Mallory wasn't about to tell Amy that it had all come from the stairwell action between her and Jake. "My jacket got caught on the sprinkler release when we were hiding in the stairwell. When I moved, it set the whole thing off."
Amy stared at her for a moment, and Mallory was afraid her friend was going to see right through her flimsy story, but she finally smiled, then giggled, then collapsed in a heap over her pillow, her whole body shaking with laughter.
"I'm sorry, Mallory, but that is so you. If there were ever a time you needed to be quiet and unobtrusive, this was it, and instead you managed to evacuate a hotel and put every federal agent and criminal in Louisiana on high alert."
Mallory thought about it for a moment and decided if it hadn't been her, and she hadn't been about to get lucky (so to speak) for the first time in years, it might have been funny in a sad,
twisted, how-could-I-possibly-fuck-things-up-more sort of way. Finally, she gave in and laughed along with Amy.
It was either that or cry.
They stayed up a little while longer, talking about Amy's thesis, movies, what they wanted to do for vacation-anything unrelated to poker, criminals, bad luck or men. When Amy finally started yawning more than talking, Mallory reached over for the body pillow and positioned it down the center of the bed between them just as her friend nodded off.
She glanced at her uneaten sandwich but still didn't feel hungry, even though she hadn't eaten since lunch. She was tired but restless, and knew if she tried to force sleep, it would be the kind filled with hectic dreams and frantic situations. The kind where you woke up more tired than before you went to bed. She got up and took a look back at her sleeping friend. Amy's body was curled in a tiny ball, her back pressed against the giant pillow.
The pillow that protected her from Mallory.
Tearing her gaze away from the rollout, Mallory stepped out onto her back porch. The night air was thick with humidity, but a gentle breeze rolling in off the bayou created that nighttime chill that was so common in the spring. She leaned against one post of the porch and watched the tide roll out, the moonlight glittering across its surface like diamonds.
It was better this way, that things between her and Jake had stopped where they did. Breaking into Silas's room was already crossing personal boundaries, especially after a childhood filled with court appearances, Child Protection Services drop-ins and Sunday prison visits. Hell, she'd never even had a traffic ticket, much less done something she could have gone to jail for.
A week ago, if anyone had told her she'd be cooling cards for Reginald and breaking and entering into Silas Hebert's hotel room-with the aid of an FBI agent, no less-she would have accused them of being in the sun too long or trying to outdrink Scooter. But then a week ago, Harry's business wasn't at stake, an FBI agent wasn't missing, and Silas Hebert wasn't at the crux of it all, at least not that she'd known about.
Falling for Jake McMillan was a whole other issue and one she simply couldn't afford. She didn't even know his real name. And what difference did it make when she knew he would be back north of the Mason-Dixon by the weekend, probably vowing to never return to Royal Flush as long as he lived? Breaking the law was something she'd live with, even justify due to the circumstances.