by Dawn Ryder
There was a flicker of approval in those blue eyes before he reached out and cupped her bare shoulder to turn her around. Something new went blistering across her skin. Some sort of reaction to the contact between their bare skin.
It was so intense, it curled her toes.
He grabbed the top of her zipper and pulled it down.
“Who are you?” Her voice was a squeak again, but at least she’d managed to get her tongue to work.
“Special Agents.”
“Oh…” It was an expression of relief. She turned around to look at him, earning a scowl as he lost the zipper tab while it was only halfway down her body. “Where is your badge?”
It appeared to be her night for asking stupid questions, but his expression made it clear that he agreed with her thought process.
“I’m undercover,” he answered with a tone that made it clear he felt she needed to get her priorities in line. His partner finished unzipping her.
Ginger clasped her arms around herself again, trapping her dress against her skin and feeling unbearably exposed with the back of it open to the night air. She was suddenly trembling, jerking her attention toward the door. Why? She honestly didn’t fucking know. Somehow, she’d turned into a bundle of impulses that she was just acting on while her brain took a snooze and left her at the mercy of the circumstances she was drowning in.
“Get a grip” had never held more meaning.
The first man rolled his eyes, clearly frustrated with her. “I’m Saxon Hale, and I’ll get you my badge as soon as possible. Right now, the Raven’s men are getting the word out to find you and in case you missed it, kill you.”
“I got that part,” she replied. “Sorry, my brain isn’t working.”
“It’s shock. Listen to me, follow my lead. Don’t try to think it through, just do it. One action at a time.”
It really wouldn’t be hard. He had a deep tone that was so full of authority, falling into line was easy. Ginger let her dress go. It slithered down her body, leaving her in a bra and boy shorts.
Saxon actually averted his gaze as he handed over another dress. It was a tiny thing, but she grasped onto it, allowing herself to think of him as a decent guy while she pulled the new dress over her head and down her body. He held her old dress up by two fingertips and lifted it high while his partner held a bag open for him to drop it into.
“That should do it,” the second man said with a heavy dose of satisfaction. He knotted the top of the plastic bag. “Some hard evidence at last.”
The new dress was a soft jersey that clung to her curves more. Saxon returned his full attention to her.
“Do something else with your hair.” He pointed at the makeup table. “And use some of that face paint.”
It was something to do and she needed action instead of being at the mercy of her racing thoughts. Ginger pulled the pins out of her hair and looked at what the table offered. She settled for using dark eyeliner and lots of mascara. She pulled several makeup remover cloths out of a tub and wiped the blood off her arms. It didn’t come off easily but smeared in bright streaks that made her belly heave.
Remember that grip? Better hold on tighter.
Or maybe better advice was to take her lead from her companions. Saxon Hale was in complete control. Sure, finding him sexy was misplaced, but it sort of took second place to keeping her head and staying alive
So she let herself soak up the details of the man. He was built. B-U-I-L-T. Shoulders to drool over, trim waist line, which promised cut abs, and when he turned around, his jeans gave her a peek at a very nice ass. Bundle that all together with the adorable way he’d looked away while she was in her underwear, and he was undeniably the most amazing male she’d ever come face to face with outside the pages of a book.
But he was dangerous.
Only she found that trait to be another point in his favor because he was suited to his role as a special agent. Part of her recoiled from that idea. The logical portion of her brain knew he was playing a dangerous game in his chosen profession. There in her gray matter was the fact of how many law-enforcement officers died in the line of duty. Those statistics and facts that she’d seen printed on a screen suddenly took on a very real meaning.
Along with the sharp slap of reality that came with acknowledging just how helpless she was without him. He was her only line of defense.
* * *
“She saw him,” Saxon whispered to Bram. He was actually fighting the urge to look at her bottom as their unexpected eye witness bent over to apply some eyeliner.
Sleazy Hale. Don’t be a dick …
She wasn’t that sort of girl, he’d noticed that first off. Truth was, it had been a long time since he’d dealt with an innocent woman. His job just didn’t have him rubbing elbows with them very often. Tonight was the first time he’d felt that it was something lacking in his life.
And his timing couldn’t have been more off. She was a witness. One who needed her wits functioning one hundred percent.
Bram made a low sound. “Positive?”
“I think she knows who he is. The Raven sure seemed to think so.” Saxon forced himself to focus on his fellow agent.
“Getting her out of here alive is going to be damned hard,” Bram said.
Saxon knew it. He was nearly sick with the realization. It pissed him off because it was another emotional response, and he sure as shit didn’t have time for distractions. His witness was definitely a bundle of those it seemed.
He shook his head and focused. They needed to fold back into the flow of people on the street without a single ripple to announce their presence.
That was the only way he was going to keep her alive.
* * *
Now that she was back in control, her mind was offering up little bits of information.
She’d just seen a murder.
Fuck.
And, double fuck.
Ginger bit her lip to keep from telling them that she knew who she’d seen. Who the hell wouldn’t recognize Marc Grog? Well, maybe quite a few considering the guy was supposed to be dead. For the last decade. But he’d been a media giant in his time. Suddenly, her obsession with details was a really bad habit. It would be a whole lot better for her if she didn’t know who the guy was, but she did.
Yeah, she knew who she’d seen, but she wasn’t going to say so. Saxon Hale still had his wits about him, and, honestly, she was scared to death of distracting him from keeping her alive. Alone, she would be dead. Her pride didn’t much care for that hard truth, but facts were facts.
So? Get busy doing some thinking of your own … Life plays for keeps.
She drew in a deep breath and scrounged up some composure. Ginger selected some lipstick and glossed her lips with her newfound poise.
“Finish up, we need to move you,” Saxon urged her.
She stood up, her unbound hair flipping around her neck and shoulders. She thought he hesitated, but it was likely her shocked brain making her think so. There was a precision to his motions; indecision really wasn’t something that fit with his overall persona. It was hypnotic, drawing her attention because it was just so polished. He used his body like a weapon, every motion practiced. There was no faking that sort of thing. She was sure of that fact because she’d seen lots of men who seemed to think they knew how to take on the bad elements of the world.
Saxon Hale put them to shame.
It suddenly dawned on her why none of the guys back home did anything for her. They were safe. The knowledge was irrefutable. It wasn’t a conscious choice, just a reaction to Saxon’s take-control persona. There was a strength in him, something she’d thought she’d seen in other men but actually hadn’t. Now she understood the difference. It sent a tingle across her skin and tightened her insides.
And made her realize she was a complete mental case who was in the running for the all-time award for bad timing. Geez. Getting turned on while people were intent on killing her.
Her mouth went dry as
the second man opened the door an inch and looked out into the hallway.
Oh hell, it was real, the people-wanting-to-kill-her part. How in the hell had she gone from buying a dress from a woman stroking a cat to needing to strip in front of two men in order to avoid certain death? It sounded surreal, but Saxon reached out and grasped her bicep, confirming that it wasn’t some action-movie inspired dream.
“Let’s move,” he said as he pulled her into motion.
The contact between them was live once more. She took strength from the buzz, letting the way he affected her jump-start her brain.
“Bring it,” she said softly.
Saxon cocked his head to one side in response, one corner of his mouth twitching into a small, half grin that told her he liked her attitude. The response warmed her.
Hell, it did more than that, but Saxon was sweeping her into motion a second later, and there was no way she was going to drop the ball.
No way in hell.
* * *
“She said Kitten was expecting her.”
Kitten was shaking. She could feel the sweat running down her body. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
She fought to keep her rising panic under control. The blindfold wasn’t helping. Being in darkness only heightened her awareness of just how precarious her position was. The men in the room were the dangerous sort. She knew their type, had worked with them for years because it was the only way to really make enough and do more than just scrape by. She didn’t need to see their guns; she knew they lived by the bullet. Had watched them use those weapons to end life. The scent of gunpowder was still lingering along with the bite of fresh blood.
She should have settled for making do. It had been a risk, a gamble to pit herself against the darker elements of the Quarter, and only a fool failed to realize the risks that went along with games of chance.
“What’s that?”
Kitten waited while someone moved across the floor.
“It’s a book, by Heather Graham,” one of the men in the room said. She heard him turning pages. “Signed, too.”
Kitten gasped.
“So that means something to you?” The Raven asked.
“Yes,” Kitten admitted. She swallowed her reluctance because she had to look out for herself. “There was a tourist yesterday, a woman who said she would bring me a signed book.”
Time ticked by. Kitten was aware of every second because she knew they might be her last moments in this life.
“Get out and find her,” the Raven said. “Stay with her, kill her if she fails.”
Kitten knew that would be the price, to do what the Raven wanted, but she still regretted the necessity of what she had to do. Yet she would because life was precious, but it was also unfair.
They all must take their chances.
* * *
“Stay close.” Saxon had her against his side again. He pulled her closer and tilted his head over so that his lips were an inch from her ear. “This is his territory. He has a very effective network, and you are the only person alive who has seen his face.”
“Lucky me.”
Ginger shivered. The French Quarter hadn’t seemed so large, not until that moment. She felt her eyes widen as she looked at the sheer number of people between her and the safety of the rest of the city. But it was bigger than that. The knowledge of just how much money and reach someone like Marc Grog had was amazing. His son Pulse ran the music empire that came complete with private jet. As a dead man, Grog could kill her and never be suspected, because the world believed him dead.
She was going to die.
It hit her like a concrete brick in the center of her chest. She struggled to draw in her next breath. Saxon shifted beside her, the hold he had on her hand the most comforting thing she’d ever felt.
“I’ll get you through this.”
He stunned her again because there was kindness in his tone. The sort that she could have cheerfully crawled inside of at that moment because she believed he had the ability to shelter her.
“I’m good,” she offered, amazed at how steady her voice was. Actually, it was just a touch husky, betraying how much she liked the guy.
Beggars couldn’t be choosers …
At the moment, he was all she had, and inappropriate thoughts beat panicked chicken. Blushing wouldn’t kill her. Besides, he’d never know just what she was thinking.
“Keep your eyes moving. If you see someone you recognize, let me know,” Saxon instructed her.
“What’s the plan?” She asked as she started looking at the crowd around them, trying to see faces instead of just a mass of people. Trying to be just as cool and collected as he was.
“We’re going to hide in plain sight until I can get you out of here. My team needs to gather resources for an extraction.”
“I have a room at the Marriott,” she offered. “It’s only a couple of blocks…”
Saxon was laughing before she finished. It was a crusty chuckle that made her feel about as smart as a block of wood. She decided that learning what she clearly didn’t know was more important than getting her panties in a bunch.
“So tell me why that’s amusing.” She cut him a sidelong look and caught a flash of surprise crossing his face. “So I don’t blow it.”
“Who did you say you were?” he asked.
“Ginger Boyce.” She realized the second man was listening to everything. He tapped her name into his phone as he stayed exactly two inches from her left side.
“Why don’t we just call the police?” she questioned him.
“Because a man like the one you just saw has connections,” Saxon informed her. He suddenly shifted, turning her around and putting her behind a tree while he looked ahead of him.
“I’ve got him,” the second man said. He went striding off, leaving her all but pressed up against Saxon.
“Who?”
Saxon actually slid his hand over her mouth, silencing her as he watched his friend over the top of her head. “The doorman,” he supplied in a tight voice. “He’s up there, scanning the crowd. Put your face against my shoulder.”
“Ummm…”
Saxon made another little frustrated sound in the back of his throat before he cupped her nape and pulled her into contact with him. “There is no personal space in safety.”
She snorted in response, but after that she was swept up into a moment of pure bliss. The guy felt as amazing as he looked. She was trembling but not just from the fear. No, as appalling as it might be, she was turned on. In fact, she was pretty sure she’d never been so aware of a man before in her life. Her very skin felt more sensitive, and her nipples had tightened into hard little pebbles. She was mortified, pretty sure he’d notice them poking through the soft jersey of the dress.
“Closer,” he instructed her, hovering over her ear as he tilted her neck with the hold he had on it. “When I said the guy had connections, I wasn’t kidding. He has people that can tap into every security camera. Hiding in plain sight is our only option until I get confirmation that my team has a plan for getting you out of this city alive.”
“All right, just remember, you asked for it,” She was having trouble getting her brain to function. She shifted and fit her body against his, settling her hands on his chest and slipping one up to his shoulder as she let their legs mingle in something that was purely intimate.
She felt him stiffen and it blew her confidence to hell. For all she knew, he had a wife. Ginger pulled back.
“You were doing just fine.” His voice was filtering through her hair, unleashing a ripple of delight that traveled across her skin. “Don’t move.”
Ginger bit her lip to keep from making a little sound of contentment.
She was so going to hell.
Time was kind enough to slow down again. It allowed her to soak up the feeling of being held by him. Pathetic? Maybe. But she wasn’t going to be so foolish as to not enjoy the moment when there appeared to be people trying to make it her last among th
e living.
“Bram got him, let’s move.” Saxon said softly before he turned her around effortlessly and had them both heading down Bourbon Street while she was struggling to get her head back in the game.
Right. Keep your eyes open.
Ginger scanned the people, looking past the ones who were obviously from conventions and taking in the French Quarter. She looked up at the balconies with their unique iron work. Ginger sucked her breath in and turned around.
“What is it?”
She ran right into Saxon because he stepped to the side so he could look over her shoulder. She sort of expected him to rock back on his heels because she hit him so hard but he took the impact, remaining steady.
“Ginger?” he pressed her for an explanation.
“The balcony…” She was fighting off panic. They were in the middle of the street but completely exposed to anyone on the balconies. This wasn’t spicy, it was lunacy. She needed to escape, felt the need overriding every other thought but Saxon held her in place.
“Don’t move,” he warned. “It will tip them off. Details. Tell me now.”
Ginger gulped down a breath and soaked up his composure to feed her own. “The woman, her name is Kitten, I was going to see her—”
“She knows what you look like?” Saxon’s voice had taken on a hard edge.
“Yes. She’s—”
“I see her,” Saxon said in a clipped tone. “Follow my lead.”
He somehow had hold of her hand and in the next moment, he was turning her under his arm. She spun around like they were on a dance floor.
“Smile.” He insisted as he slid his arm down her back and settled it there with his hand on her hip and guided her toward the sidewalk like they were a honeymooning couple.
“Head on my shoulder, hide your face.”
She responded instantly because he was using that no-argument tone of his. Confidence radiated from him, and she needed to soak it up because it was the only defense she had against the panic trying to sweep her into mindless reactions.
Saxon kept her going and didn’t stop until they were next to another man.
“He’s a friend,” Saxon said when she tensed up, recoiling from how close Saxon wanted to put her to the new arrival.