All I Want For Christmas

by Shelby Morgen

  The hell with not looking. He wanted to devour her.

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Her lips parted instantly under his. In a hurry. She was always in a hurry. Well, someone had taught her that. He would teach her to slow down. Tuesday was five days away. He could put off making any decision until after her birthday. He owed her that. A great many things could change in five days.

  Slow would have been easier if he hadn’t already been so hard from just thinking about her. Now that she was in his arms slow was not what his body wanted. Still, some finesse was required. He couldn’t just grab her and…

  "I woke up thinking about you," she breathed against his chest as she ran her hands over his body. "You were gone."

  "I won’t let that happen again," he promised as she kissed her way down his chest, stopping to run her tongue over his nipples in a way that threatened to unman him. Still, he wasn’t prepared when she dropped to her knees to take him in her mouth. His hands fisted in her hair. "Sweet Jesus," he managed. Her hands framed his throbbing cock, pushing him hard against the shower wall as she slid her mouth over the length of him, somehow managing to massage his shaft with her tongue as she slid her lips over him.

  His world took on a narrow focus. His assignment meant nothing. The last two years meant nothing. His life before that meant nothing. His entire existence had had only one purpose—to bring him to this place at this time. He couldn’t remember ever having been so focused on his own sensations before. He ought to say something. Let her know how good…

  His legs were going to give out. He was sure of it. She’d moved her hands, stroking his tight balls as if knowing how they ached for release. She stroked his penis as she drew her mouth back down, concentrating her attentions now on the painfully sensitive head. He bucked against her helplessly as she stroked with her tongue while her hands massaged.

  Gradually sound penetrated through the haze to the small remaining functional part of his brain. Someone was knocking on the door. God. If she quit now…

  Her hands urged him on, demanding he come for her now. She raked him deliberately with her teeth.

  That was more than he could stand. Thrusting against her, completely out of control, he shattered, pumping into her in wild desperation. Her hands caressed his scrotum as if trying to milk him of everything he had.

  Moments later he was empty and she was gone. He was dimly aware that she’d turned the water off and wrapped herself back in that towel as she headed for the door.

  He came back to his senses slowly. Voices. He could hear voices.

  "… foolish of you to bid against me, voman. Turn him over to me now."

  "He’s not here I tell you! I woke up and he was gone."

  Shit. Schumacher was here himself? How the hell had Schumacher found him again? Shit. Schumacher wouldn't just take Brooke back. Schumacher would kill him now.

  There was no place to hide. No windows. No doors other than the one back to the room where someone was looking for him. One small closet that would never hold him.

  What was he thinking? He couldn’t leave Candy alone to face Schumacher and his goons. Brooke pulled his filthy cut-off shorts out of the trashcan. He'd be damned if he'd die naked. Maybe if he went peacefully Schumacher would leave Candy out of this. It was worth a try. Now that the German had tracked him down, it was useless to run. Brooke armed himself with one of the huge hotel towels and shoved open the bathroom door.

  There were only two of them. Lukas and his brother Philipp. "I didn’t go very far. Hello Lukas. Philipp. How's your pop?" If Candy hadn’t been in the room… What was she doing, anyway? She was wrapped in a towel. What the hell did she need with her purse?

  Lukas laughed, his voice amiable, as if this were just a social call. Overconfident, as always. "Brooke, ve missed you. How hafe—"

  Candy chose just that moment to drop her towel. That was all the distraction Brooke needed.

  "Was der Fuck!"

  Damn! She'd stabbed Schumacher with something. Brooke didn't take the time to look. He struck while both men were distracted. Philipp was big, but soft. He hadn’t busted his ass for months hauling bricks. Brooke’s first left knocked Philipp out cold. "Glass jaw," Brooke noted in surprise as he looked back at Candy's victim. Blood ran down Lukas's hand. He was yanking Candy's weapon—a comb? Candy had stabbed him with a comb?—out of his forearm, cursing as he stared at Candy, who was bending over to retrieve her towel.

  Brooke laughed softly as he threw Schumacher his towel. "Here, Lukas, looks like you need this."

  Schumacher spun to catch the towel, turning his back on Candy. Seconds later a hotel lamp crashed into his skull. "Nice work." Brooke ripped the cord out of the shattered lamp remains and used it to tie Schumacher’s hands behind his back. Philipp hadn’t recovered yet. Still naked, Candy tossed Brooke the belt from the robe the doorman had dressed him in last night. It didn't take long to get Philipp tied at the wrists. Brooke stripped off their belts and used those to bind their feet together, looping the cord for the wrists through the belts as well.

  He hadn’t really given Candy much thought as he worked. By the time he looked up from his mission she was dressed and she was throwing clothes in a suitcase. She’d laid out slacks and a shirt for him on the bed, along with a clean pair of boxers. Damn, the woman was calm. It scared him a little. He crossed the room to her and rested his hands on her upper arms. "You got any duct tape?"

  She whirled to face him, searching the floor behind him where the goons were sprawled. "Duct tape?"

  "Yeah. You can fix anything with duct tape."

  Her shoulders shook. He gathered her into her arms as she tried to figure out whether to laugh or to cry.

  "Who are they?" she managed. "I'm not an idiot, Brooke. There never was any Japanese whorehouse. I may be a little naïve, but even I manage to put the pieces together eventually. This was more than just a lost bid at an auction. It was from the beginning, wasn't it? Why did the man want you badly enough to run the bidding up that high in the first place? Why did he come hunting for you now? What's going on, Brooke?"

  "I’m sorry, Candy. I don’t know how they found me, but Schumacher's really dangerous. He really does own whorehouses, all over the world. He's part of the German mob. He wants me bad. He'd have killed me. Eventually. You just saved my life. Again. We gotta get out of here. If I can get you to the Embassy I think you’ll be safe. We gotta go. Now."

  Candy just stared at him. Her silence was unnerving. He waited twenty seconds, thirty, but nothing. "Damn it, Candy, say something. Argue with me. Scream at me, but say something."

  Candy crossed the room, stopping to pick up her bloodied comb. "You better put some pants on," she offered at last. "Your cock's about to jump out of those shorts."

  *****

  "I should have killed them."

  Candy refrained herself from strangling the man only because his body was physically stronger than hers. "Oh, yeah. That would work just fine. We'd escape notice real well with the Singapore police looking for us as well as your German mob friends. How about this. How about you tell me what the hell's going on here before I terminate you myself. All I need is a female judge. The phrase justifiable homicide comes to mind... 'You see, Your Honor, I asked how I could help and he tried to protect me...' Instant acquittal."

  The elevator stopped at the fifteenth floor. Without warning Brooke pulled her into his arms, slanting his head so that his hair cascaded over them as he kissed her. Candy heard a woman gasp, then laugh nervously as she walked away from the door. Lord it was hard to stay angry with a man who could kiss like that, even if he was only trying to keep her hidden. She was pretty sure he forgot why he was kissing her long before the elevator doors slid shut again.

  "I'm sorry. I forgot. Why are you angry with me again?"

  Candy pulled back enough to look up at him, noting the laughter in his eyes. "Calculating bastard, aren't you? You think I can't stay mad at you just because you kiss like a Satyr?"


  He shrugged. "I don't know. We could experiment."

  "Brooke, start talking. What the hell's going on? Why…"

  Brooke kissed her again, his lips no longer soft, but demanding now, a kind of desperate plea that stopped her questions more by the force of his agitation than by the strength with which his arms closed around her. "I'm sorry," he whispered finally, ending the kiss but still holding her with a quiet desperation. "Whatever happens, Candy, I want you to know that you're the best thing that's happened to me in a long, long time."

  "Bullshit." Candy stomped her foot on the floor for emphasis, ignoring Brooke's wounded look. "I'm a lawyer, remember? Don't feed me that fucking crap. Men with guns just tried to kill us. You can't change the Goddamned subject and think I'm just going to buy it. What the fuck is going on here?"

  He tried to maintain that stunned, hurt look, but it crumbled around the edges. He leaned back against the elevator wall and ran a hand through his thick mane of hair. "I'm sorry, Candy. I really am. You deserve more of an answer than I can give you. I promise I'll get you to the Embassy and get the hell out of your life, okay? It may take some time, but I'll see that you get reimbursed for your expenses."

  "No."

  This time his surprise looked genuine. "No what?"

  "I'm not letting you ditch me at the Embassy. I'm not leaving you to get out of this on your own."

  He stared at the floor lights, five now, then four. "You're one tough lady, Candy. I wish I'd met you under different circumstances."

  She kept her voice calm, the anger and fear neatly filed away. "Who do you work for? CIA? Covert Ops? Military Intelligence?"

  He laughed, though the sound conveyed little humor. "Nothing that well organized. I'm just a civilian who got caught up in something bigger than me. All I wanted to do was help people, you know? I never expected anything like this. And then I was too far in, I knew too much, and I couldn't get out."

  Candy just stared at him, trying to understand what he wasn't saying. "Let me help you. We go to the Embassy together. Within twenty-four hours we're on a plane headed for home."

  His eyes focused on the floor, anywhere but her. He shook his head, swiping at his hair as it fell in his face. "If I walk away now it was all for nothing."

  Candy reached out to lay a hand on his cheek, tilting his head up. "If these men kill you, what will you have accomplished?"

  Their eyes met, his filled with uncertainty and regret. "I'm not a superhero, Candy. I'm not sure how to get out of this mess and I don't want to drag you under with me."

  The elevator door opened into the lobby. Candy hooked her arm through Brooke's, trying to look casual as they headed for the taxi lane. "I'm not asking you to be a superhero, Brooke. Lets start with the basics. What would you do if I wasn't with you? Where would you go? Who would you contact?"

  "I have a number to call…I checked in every time I escaped."

  "Have you called it?"

  "I—no."

  "Why not?"

  Brooke looked away again, in that odd way he had that said he felt more than he was willing to voice. "What do you think I was investigating, Candy? Brickyards? It's my job to get people who buy and sell other people arrested."

  Her step faltered. "You shit."

  He stopped, still not looking at her. "Yeah."

  "You'd let those goons kill you rather than take a chance that I might get arrested? You don't think I might just be a good enough lawyer to get myself out of trouble?"

  His head snapped around, the worry in his face easier to read now. "Do you know what you're saying? You could end up in prison here, Candy!"

  "I could tell the truth and end up with some sort of an award too, but my guess is it'll be something somewhere in the middle." Candy motioned to the attendant to find her a taxi. She barely glanced at the cab as they slid into the backseat. "Where were you supposed to end up, Brooke? What was supposed to happen Wednesday?"

  He ran a hand through his hair, shoving it back out of his eyes. "I don't know. I hadn't made contact. I'm not even sure anyone knows where I am anymore."

  "You could have ended up in Japan then, with no way out."

  "Yeah. That's what I was afraid of. I was hoping you were my contact, and you were pulling me out, but by the time we got back to the hotel I knew things had gone wrong."

  Candy wound her arms around him, laying her head against his chest. His arms closed tightly around her, and she could feel his lips press against the top of her head. "You'd have gone back anyway, not knowing whether anyone still knew where you were."

  "I had a job to do, Candy."

  The cab lurched and he steadied her, his legs braced tightly against the floor.

  "Why, Brooke? How did you get into this in the first place?"

  He turned to look out the window. "There was a girl—one of my students back in Michigan. She went home over break. They took her. She—her body turned up outside a whorehouse in Japan. She killed herself rather than live with the shame."

  "And you gave up your life for her." Candy swallowed hard. "You're wrong, Brooke. You are a superhero."

  He kissed the top of her head, burying his face in the soft mass of it. "I—" Brooke's grip on her changed subtly. Something tense, something indefinable that brought her focus out of the past and immediately into the present surroundings. His voice whispered close to her ear. "Did you tell the cabdriver where to go?"

  Candy fought back the rising panic. "No. I thought you did."

  "Afraid not," Brooke admitted, his lips still close to her ear. "Don't look now, Cat Woman, but I think Bat Man's in trouble. This driver looks real familiar."

  Candy sat up slowly, snuggling against him casually as she turned to face the back of the driver's head. The man was small and dark and Malaysian from the looks of him. And the face in the plastic ID case clipped to the visor looked remarkably familiar. He was the man who'd taken her to the auction in the first place.

  "What was that you stabbed Schumacher with, anyway? A comb?"

  "Yeah. Pretty corny, huh? Cat Woman comes armed with a plastic comb."

  "Got it handy?"

  Candy shuffled her purse around to her lap. Something electric passed between them as she guided his hand to the slightly used weapon. Brooke slipped it into his hand as he turned, covering her body with his in an embrace that quickly moved beyond mere camouflage. Damn, the man made her feel way too much at the most inappropriate times. "Oh, yeah. That won't cause any suspicions," Candy hissed as she ran her tongue over his earlobe in punishment.

  "Sex in cars is permissible, remember?" Brooke explained as he shifted closer to the driver. "Want to try it?"

  "Yeah," Candy agreed. "But not while I'm being kidnapped, if you don't mind."

  "Okay. Later."

  For a big man, he moved fast. One moment he was wound around her like a lover, and the next he had the comb pressed firmly against the back of the cabdriver's neck, his other arm pinning the driver to the back of his seat. "Sotong—this doesn't make sense. Where are you taking us and why? Kayu—not very smart -- lah?"

  The cabdriver shrugged. "I could just let Schumacher kill you I suppose."

  Candy stared at the man who now spoke perfect English.

  "Fuck." Brooke slowly dropped his arm from around the cabdriver's neck, slumping back against his seat. "You were my contact?"

  "Not exactly. I was tracking Schumacher's movements. Our sources reported you as dead. But Schumacher knew better. He's pretty determined to see that you don't testify."

  "Once you knew where Brooke was, why didn't you pull him out of there?" Candy demanded.

  The driver shrugged. "Seemed like he'd be safe enough with you. Somehow we figured the two of you could stay out of trouble for at least one whole day. Instead you're out flashing his face all over town and running up the national debt on your credit card. Why not just put up a sign that says look here!"

  "How does Candy fit into all of this?" Brooke demanded. "Why did you use her to get me out i
n the first place?"

  The driver shrugged again. "Judgment call. We didn't have time to get an operative in. Even if I'd had the money I couldn't very well buy you outright myself. Would have blown my cover. I saw Ms. Nelson's cash roll when she paid me for the hotel fare. When she asked me to take her to the auction, I did."

  "That isn't exactly the auction I asked for!" Candy insisted.

  The driver shook his head. "Of course it is. You handed me the ad off the Internet and you asked me to take you there."

  "I had an ad for an antique auction!"

  The driver sat back, stretching out his arms against the steering wheel. "You mean you really didn't know…you're just a civilian?"

  It was Brooke who answered, his voice tight and more than a little angry. "No. No, she's not a civilian. Not just a civilian. She's a citizen you recruited to help get me out. She's working with us, do you understand me?"

  The driver stared at Brooke's tense face in the mirror for a moment, then shifted his gaze back to the city traffic. "Right. That's just the way I remember it…"

  Chapter Six

  Saturday, 22 December 2001

  Candy paced the length of the small apartment, her arms wrapped around her for warmth. The air conditioning was on too high. Or else reality was just too close. She hadn't been able to sleep. Hadn't even bothered to undress. They'd whisked Brooke away almost as soon as the cab pulled into the underground parking lot of an older office building bearing a faded Oriental Trading Ltd. sign. She'd waited all night, expecting Brooke to reappear at any moment, that slow smile of his telling her that everything was okay and they would be leaving together.

  Shit. She was such a fool.

  Where was he? Where had they taken him? She doubted the Brooke was even his real name. Would she ever see him again? Probably not until he testified against her in court. If she didn't end up in prison over this, she'd get disbarred at the least.