by Jeanne Adams
He let her settle as much as she could before he dropped the verbal bomb.
"The meet at the warehouse tomorrow is a go."
"What?" Dana cried, leaping out of the seat.
"Ssssh," he urged, glancing at Xavy.
"We're to meet Sears in Richmond in the morning, make the switch for Xavier."
"Oh, God. Caine, what if something goes wrong? I don't like this, it doesn't feel right."
"Sears and I agree with you. We both want it aborted, which may still happen. But the higher ups want it finished. They think the meet will accomplish that."
"Then, we're going?"
"We'll see," he prevaricated. "It's under discussion."
"Discussion?" Indignant, she flung herself back into the comfortable seat, bumping into him.
"Yes," he ooofed, shifting his arm back around her. "Relax. I'm betting the idea will be killed before midnight."
"Oh, I hope so." She tried to relax, she really did, but relaxing meant instant, sizzling contact with his magnificent body. There was only so much a woman could take.
To distract herself, she asked about Chaz and TJ.
"They were with a different branch. CIA, counter-terrorism stuff. They retired. Government frowns on male to male fraternization, so they bagged their jobs and opened this place."
"What happened to Don't Ask, Don't Tell?"
"That's the military. This is Spookville. Whole different level, if you get my drift. They frown on gushing over drapery material."
Dana could see that. Then again, when the man doing the gushing walked and talked like a Green Bay Packer, it would be hard to assume he was gay. "It's still hard to tell, for sure, that they're gay."
"Yeah, they keep the habit of not being obvious. Then again, since most of their guests don't want to be seen, or heard of, word doesn't travel."
"What about taxes and all that?" She couldn't help it, the idea of an all cash business, run by former operatives made her think more about mobsters and money laundering than above-board operations.
"You think the IRS is going to question them?" He snorted. "Right. Then again, they assure me that they keep meticulous records. Mr. and Mrs. Peterson will be duly registered and marked paid in full. They'll report the income."
"How much?"
"Two thousand a night."
She whistled, shocked. "That much? The shower wasn't that great."
"Anonymity doesn't come cheap. Nor does the kind of cover they offer. No need to stand watch tonight."
"Hey Mom," Xavy called from across the room. "I'm hungry."
"Already?"
He came and slouched into the chair opposite them. He seemed unaffected by how closely Caine was holding her, but she'd seen him catalogue the whole scene. Not exactly subtle, but then again, he was ten.
"Yeah," he yawned the word. "Tired too. It was really early when we took off."
"Yeah, long day for us all," she agreed.
"What about pizza?" Caine asked, eyes half closed. "A place around the corner delivers. Good crust, fresh toppings." She sat up, but Caine didn't disengage his arm nor let her pull away.
"Oh, boy," Xavy enthused, even as he yawned again. "That'd be great. Can we get ham and pineapple or beef and mushroom?"
"One of each, I think" Caine said, reaching for a cord- less phone which lay on the table. Lowering his voice to a sepulchral level, he added, "The Dragon is hu-u-u-n-ngry too."
Xavy giggled and turned to her as Caine talked with their hosts and placed the order. "Hey Mom, I got high score. Not a big brag with a new game, but it was hard and really great. I hope I can play some more tomorrow before we leave. It's a really cool game."
"I hope you can too, then," she replied, truly hoping he could. "Let's get your bed made so you can get in it as soon as you've eaten." To her surprise, he nodded and got up to help her pull out the bed. He must be tired to do that.
"You gonna sleep in here with me?" he asked as they made the bed.
"Do you want me to?" His face told her he didn't want her to, but he didn't know how to say it. "It's okay if you'd rather sleep by yourself, honey. Mr. Caine can have the bed and I'll sleep on the chaise over there."
"Vice versa," Caine joined the conversation. "You take the bed. I need to prop my leg, relieve the muscles. It'll be easier in the chaise." They argued the point, but in the end agreed to Caine's way. That handled, he left to get the pizzas from wherever TJ and Chaz laired at night.
When he came in bearing the fragrantly steaming boxes, she knew something was wrong. He gave a slight, warning shake of his head. They'd talk about it when Xavier was in bed.
How parental.
"Good thing Luciano's makes an extra-large pizza. Dragon and boy were starving," Caine observed when they were done, stacking the plates and nestling them in a basket tagged for that purpose.
Xavier was ordered to the showers before bedtime, and once ensconced on the sofa bed, was allowed to watch a movie. Within ten minutes, he was asleep.
Sitting by the fire once more, Dana was nestled into Caine's warmth. The insidious arousal that had plagued her earlier was back, lurking in her belly, urging her to do things, to take risks. At least kiss the man, her libidinous psyche yelled.
She was about to give into it when he spoke.
"Chaz got an alert. Someone's searching for us, within the organization." The words were a rush of cold reality, erasing every lascivious image and chilling her heart. "They have sources I'm not privy to. They checked for me."
"Can I say for the record, that the idea of that scares the shit out of me?" Dana tried to keep her voice level, but didn't succeed.
Caine's arm tightened around her, and she didn't resist the urge to rest her head on his chest. The hollow ache of despair crept over her. How could she ever escape Donovan?
"I'm going out. I need to make a call but not from here. I'm calling in a favor. I have a friend, outside the organization. I want to disconnect the GPS tracking on the truck. It's modified, so I can't do it without setting off telltales. It's one of the few things left. I have to know how we're being traced."
He sighed and rested his chin on her hair. The warmth of his breath on her cheek, the steady thrum of his heart was somehow more reassuring than any words he might have said. In fact, the total lack of platitudes or despair from him bolstered her spirits. He hadn't given up. She shouldn't either.
"Okay. How long do you think you'll be gone?"
"Don't know. I'll need to find another landline phone, get some distance. Catching my contact may take longer than that. Getting the data may take a while too. Go on to bed." He kissed her forehead. "Rest while you can, it's safe."
"No such thing."
"Yeah," he said, "but this is the closest you'll find while Donovan's alive."
"There's a sad thought."
"No, just a true one, for now."
She pulled away from him. "Why not sad?"
"Irritating. Sad says you think you can't do anything else to help yourself."
There was a look on his face she wasn't sure she wanted to decipher but couldn't leave be. "What do you mean?"
"Xavier asked me if I was going to kill Donovan."
"Oh my God."
"Don't get wigged. It was an appropriate question at the time."
"Appropriate . . ." she began, then shook her head. "Nevermind. Go on."
"Anything can happen, Dana. We go to the meet, and shots will be fired. I won't lie to you, even if I would to anyone else," he said bluntly. "If I have a viable target, he's going down."
"You know he'll shoot, he won't give you an option otherwise."
"Yeah," he gave her a bleak smile. "You or me, it'll be self-defense or line-of-duty, straight up."
"What about the law? A trial? You told us, Tervain told us, Donovan has a lot to answer for."
"I'd rather he answered to St. Peter." His direct gaze challenged her to agree, to be honest.
Searching her feelings she realized he was right, and she n
odded. He smiled and squeezed her hand where she'd braced it on his chest. "We can't hesitate, if the situation arises."
"I know. It's just..." she trailed off.
"Do you still love him?"
"Hell, no," she barked, pulling away, shocked he'd even ask. "I'm not sure I loved him in the first place. I told you, I was young, pregnant, and scared, so I married him and stayed with him. You know all that."
"I do, but it doesn't change that he's Xavy's father. That makes anyone think, especially about killing."
He stood and stretched, getting ready to leave on his errand. The now familiar movements sent another zing of need nipping along her nerves as the cloth of his shirt stretched over his chest and shoulders.
He continued to talk as he moved. "'This is my son's father,' you might think. 'How can I kill the father of my child?' No matter how bad he is, it can be the thing that stops you from pulling the trigger in that split-second, critical moment." He knelt down, a black knight in a black shirt and dark jeans. As he took her hands, his eyes bored into hers. "If you get the shot, take it, Dana. Don't hesitate. He wouldn't, if the positions were reversed. Remember that."
"I will."
His eyes searched hers, looking, she presumed, for surety that she meant what she said, that her hand would be steady on the trigger. He must have found it, because he nodded, a grim smile turning up the corners of his mouth.
"If I'm not at the door in five hours, contact Chaz on the house phone. Don't leave the room. He'll help you get out of here and over the border."
She nodded, appreciating that he didn't patronize her by suggesting she contact the organization if he were taken out. At this point, if they got him, she'd never be safe going to the FBI.
Standing, he pulled her to her feet, wrapping her in his arms. "I'll be back. We'll get through this."
"See that you do come back," she tried for a smile. "I have uses for you, Agent Bradley."
The gleam returned to his eye in an instant and she realized how her words sounded. Appalled at her obviousness, unintentional as it was, she started to stammer a disclaimer.
"No," he put a finger to her lips. "Don't spoil it. It was too much fun to think you might have meant it."
He pressed a hard, but all too brief kiss to her lips and let her go. Taking his jacket and the weapon he'd laid on the table by the door, he was about to leave. The door was swinging shut when she spoke.
"Caine?"
"Yeah?" he pushed it back open, darkly handsome, his mind obviously already out the door, on the track of the information he sought.
"For better or worse, I did mean it."
There was a moment's hesitation, then his smile, hungry and triumphant, shone in the darkened entry-way. "Hold onto that, Dana Markham. I'll be back before daylight."
Chapter Fourteen
Striding down the sidewalk in a less-than-desirable part of Baltimore, Caine surreptitiously scanned the streets for trouble. He was worried, and, for only the second time in his career, deeply concerned that his emotions were screwing with him.
What the hell was he going to do about Dana?
He'd laughed at hapless agents falling for their protectees. He'd never once, in all his years, had even a stirring of attraction for a witness or a mark.
Only the accident in Tijuana, and his partner's death virtually at his hands, had broken his nerve, involved his emotions at a deeper, more dangerous level. It couldn't happen again, ever. That experience had left him so damaged, so wounded, it had taken him a year to even be fit for duty, much less sound.
The department wondered about that soundness, even now.
"It's a job, Bradley," he muttered to himself as he slouched into a bar. Even on a weeknight, the crowd was solid. No one noticed him push through the throng and head beyond the taps and high-tops to the phone in the back.
Somehow, Dana and Xavier were more than just an assignment. They meant too much. He wanted her too much. Not just for sex; though if he stayed with her too much longer playing the devoted husband with no connubial perks, he was going to go mad.
He'd realized, as they sat together by the fire, or joked with Xavier, that she fit him. She made sense to him. She was smart, savvy, and self-aware. She was a great mom, a sharp companion, and one hell of a sexy woman.
Visions of Dana had the blood pounding in his loins, and he took a deep breath, redirecting his mind to the task at hand. He dialed the number, concentrating on the deal. He had to quit thinking about Dana that way.
Had to.
With a long series of whirs and beeps, a number connected and began to ring.
"Madre," a gruff voice answered.
"de Dios," Caine replied, giving the code answer. The man asked three more questions, all of which Caine answered.
"Uno momenta," the voice said. Luck was with him because within ten minutes, the line connected again.
"Hey bro," another, lighter baritone, came on the line, immediately recognizable by inflection. Caine only knew the man by his voice.
"Hey. Wazzup?"
"Nada. Hear there's trouble at the factory. Bunch of your people off duty for a while."
"Yeah, one permanently."
"Perm? Didn't catch that. Who?"
"Booth, presumed."
"Crap. Hate it when that happens."
"It's a bitch."
"Truth. Whatcha need."
Caine told him. Baritone hemmed a little, seemed worried. It made Caine twitchy.
"Crap, man. That's bad. Like, its sooo classified. I'm gonna do it. 'Cause I know you, know the sitch, you get it? But you forget, okay? Get it done, then you put it right outta your mind. Deal?"
"Right." He never forgot anything. Part of his problem was that he didn't. If it was bad, it haunted his nights. If it was good, it paled in comparison to the bad.
Baritone walked him through disabling the GPS tracking on the company vehicle and how to avoid any screening as they passed through toll booths, tunnels, or other security laden features.
"Hey, man," he concluded. "Don't get dead."
"Do my best, dude."
They rang off with no goodbye, each to their own worries.
It was after one in the morning when Caine let himself into the room. Dana was asleep on the couch. He was surprised that she had slept through his return, given the state of vigilance she seemed to maintain.
"Dana," he whispered, checking to be sure he wasn't waking Xavier. "Let's get you to bed."
"Hmmmm," she murmured as he lifted the blanket and eased his arm behind her. With the stitches in his leg, he wasn't sure he should lift her, but he wanted to, wanted the weight of her in his arms, even for a brief moment.
Her arm snaked around his neck and before he knew it, her mouth was pressed to his, warm and inviting. Taken by surprise, he gently returned the kiss.
She wasn't having anything to do with gentle. Her grip tightened, and she pulled him closer. He went.
Mouth to mouth, fused to one another, they battled with the passion roaring between them. Tongues tangled, and he barely suppressed a moan as her hands found the tail of his shirt, skirted the weapon, and dived beneath to dance a trail up his spine.
"The bed," she said, between the hot, melting meeting of their mouths. "I want you in the bed."
"Dana—" he started to object, only God knew why.
"Don't argue with me, Caine, unless you don't want this." Her eyes were huge in the still-dancing firelight. The honest desire burning there convinced him the way nothing else would.
"C'mon," he offered her a hand, and they raced for the bedroom. "Should we check on Xavier?"
"I already did, right before you got in."
He closed the doors, locked them, even as he peeled off his shirt, toed off his shoes. "I thought you were asleep."
"Dozing," she answered, then dove at him, her mouth and hands busy as she undid his belt buckle. "God, you're gorgeous."
"Same goes," he bit his lip on a moan as she took him into her hands, ca
ressing his shaft with her long, clever fingers. He tugged her shirt and bra away with her able assistance. She ceased her teasing and touching for two seconds, long enough to toss her jeans to the floor and climb onto the bed.
The guys had talked about the bed earlier, when they arrived, but Caine hadn't taken it in. He hadn't believed he'd be sleeping in it, so he hadn't listened. When it gave under his weight and the smooth nap of the comforter slid silkily under his skin, he appreciated it. But only for a moment, then Dana demanded all of his attention.
Hair streaming down, she pushed him to his back, straddled him, rocking up and down along the length of his cock until he nearly exploded.
"We need... Oh, man ..."
"Protection. Jesus. Check the drawer, TJ and Chaz thought of everything else," she said, a frantic hunger in her voice.
Sure enough, there was a box of condoms in the bedside drawer. Donning one, he reached for her, letting his hands talk for him, tell her of her beauty.
He touched her everywhere, reveling in her gasps and quiet moans. She arched up, a graceful curve of womanly delight as his fingers caressed the curls at the juncture of her thighs. The thrust of her breasts drew him, and he suckled the nipples, to her obvious pleasure. As he worked his way down her torso with his mouth, she writhed in his hands, her wet heat driving them both to further heights.
"Caine," she wailed softly. "I need ... I need..."
"I know, darling," he muttered, rising above her, poised to enter her enticing body. "Are you sure?"
"God, don't ask me that. Just make love to me."
"Dana—" he hesitated, but she didn't.
Her strong hands gripped him from behind, pulling him forward, burying him to the hilt in her welcoming warmth. The sheer strength of her, the rhythm she had already begun blanked his mind to any doubt.
"Ahhhhhh," she cried as she flashed to a climax within seconds and nearly took him with her. Gritting his teeth, he held on while she rode it out, then began to rock, set-ting his own pace, bringing her to the brink again, then slowing down, taking her right to the edge again.
When she came the second time, he couldn't stand it. Her agile body bowed, and everything about her, her beauty, her sexy body, her wicked mews of fulfillment overwhelmed him, and he soared into the oblivion of passion with her name on his lips.