by Nancy Warren
Nothing plausible occurred to her.
“I know you’re back there! Come on out,” the guard said suddenly, in the voice a father might use with a child acting up. She didn’t need Jake’s signal to stay where she was. She was paralyzed by fear.
“Come on. I’ve got something for you.” The voice came again, closer now.
Jake was poised on the balls of his feet, ready to spring.
Something hairy brushed her hand and she squeaked in alarm before biting off her own cry of horror. She jerked her hand back and watched a big dark shape scuttle by. It had a long snaking tail.
Oh, God. A rat.
“Hey, Wally. How are you, buddy?” the guard crooned, just as she heard the heavy door open once again.
“You gotta stop feedin’ that rodent, it’s disgusting,” a grumpy older man’s voice complained.
“Don’t hurt his feelings, Harry. He’s a very smart rat. Look how he knows I got Oreos in here.” The voice sounded fainter, and she heard the boots heading away, then the clicking of a lunch box.
“He’s vermin. I got rat poison in here.”
“Aw, you wouldn’t. Wally’s like family, ain’t you, little buddy?”
“I have to leave now,” Cynthia whispered urgently to Jake, rubbing her hand frantically against her jacket. “They have rats here. Rats carry diseases like the bubonic plague, and are generally revolting.”
Jake shot her a warning look and put a finger to his lips.
Okay. She was losing it. In some recess of her mind where a smidgen of sanity remained, she recognized that she was losing it, but her only coherent thought was to get out of this horrible rat-infested nightmare as quickly as possible.
Like yesterday.
“I really have to leave,” she whispered.
“How are you going to get out?” he whispered back.
“I’ll crawl past them. They’re playing cards or something.”
“The rat’s up there.” Was it her imagination or was he laughing at her?
It was the last straw. She’d had a miserable evening, learned absolutely squat, forgotten to buy batteries, and her last meal on earth could turn out to be a candy bar. Not only that, but Jake, her brand-new lover, hadn’t even bothered to tell her he’d be dropping by. To top it all off, a rat had run over her hand. And Jake thought it was funny?
“Excuse me,” she said furiously, and tried to shove her way past him.
Next thing she knew, he had his blasted hand clamped over her mouth again, the other just under her breasts, and he was hauling her backward. When he’d finished manhandling her, he bumped her down onto his lap, and she found herself leaning against his chest, while he leaned against the sacks. The smell of coffee, pungent and unattainable, made her stomach growl.
Jake held her still and began whispering soothingly into her ear. “Relax. They’ll probably do rounds every couple of hours. Next time they do, we’ll leave. Understand?”
She shuddered, but sanity had returned. Her panic was already ebbing as he cradled her, his words warm and reassuring in her ear. Somehow she felt nothing too terrible could happen to her now that Jake was holding her. In her head she knew how stupid that was, but he felt solid and warm beneath her.
“Just try to relax.”
She felt his chest rise and fall as he whispered, imagined she could hear the steady pounding of his heart against her shoulder. His whispered breath sent shivers down her neck, and unbidden, images of him naked in her bed last night flashed before her eyes like a particularly luscious film.
His hand rested just under her breasts as though it belonged there, and suddenly she didn’t want to go anywhere.
She heard the slap of cards and the low rumble of the guards’ voices, not fifty feet away. She should be cowering in terror, but instead, a warm, powerful urge pervaded her body. It was as though all the fear and tension, all the adrenaline that had coursed through her body moments ago, had settled, hot and insistent, between her legs.
Relax? Not a chance.
She shifted her hips, doing her own private version of a fully clothed lap dance, and all thoughts of rodents fled. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing she could be doing under the circumstances, but she was unable to control the raw need that gripped her.
The hand under her breasts tightened, grabbing her ribs as though to stop her movements, but it would have taken a full body cast to prevent the instinctive gyrations of her woman’s body urging her mate to fill her. She heard a muttered oath, then felt Agent Wheeler’s breathing change, as did the topography of his lap.
“What’s on your mind, Cyn?” No longer soothing, his whisper was as ragged as a torn curtain, revealing his own urges.
Since he didn’t move his hand from her mouth, her only way of answering him was with body language. She wiggled, as suggestively as she knew how, against the bulge pressing against her backside.
He nipped her earlobe, then traced its shape with his tongue, hot and wet in the cool, dank atmosphere of the warehouse. “I guess we don’t have anything else to do for the next couple of hours.” He still didn’t move his hand from her mouth, but the other hand slipped inside her jacket and began to trace the contours of her breasts, while his lips trailed over the back of her neck, making her shiver all over.
She arched against him, rubbing her hands on the outside of his thighs, up to his waist as far as she could reach. All her fear had sublimated itself into an arousal so fierce she burned with it.
Helplessly her movements changed from the controlled gyrations she’d started with. She began squirming on his lap.
“Can you keep quiet?” he whispered.
She debated with herself for a moment. Could she? His left hand was doing such delicious things to her nipple that she felt a moan building in her throat. With two hands on her flesh, he could have her crying aloud in no time. And his right hand was such a talented hand. Clapped over her mouth the way it was, it just wasn’t living up to its potential. There were areas of her body that needed that hand much more than her mouth did. Figuring the presence of the guards would act as a pretty efficient gag, she jerked her head up and down. Yes.
His hand released her mouth and reached down between her legs as if he’d read her mind. She pulled them open, as though she were doing a frog kick, and sighed softly as he cupped her heat.
“I hate panty hose,” he whispered in frustration, pausing to fumble something out of his pocket.
Glancing down, she saw a knife and swallowed sharply. “What are you—?”
His other hand left her breast. She closed her eyes and held her breath, and next thing she knew, cool air fanned her intimate parts through the gaping hole in the crotch of her panty hose.
Maybe the air was cool, but she wasn’t. She’d never felt like this before. Feverish with want. Shameless and wanton with the urge to take and be taken. Deep inside herself she recognized that part of the feverish excitement was caused by the fact that the guards were only several yards away and that this game she and Jake were playing was a dangerous one.
She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out as his fingers reached for her again.
“Now this, I like,” he whispered, slipping his hand beneath the silk thong she’d donned that morning in a fit of bravado. She felt her own slickness as his fingers slid over her, seeking and finding her throbbing clit.
He shocked her by clamping a hand once more over her mouth. Before she had time to wonder why, he plunged two fingers inside her, deep and hard. Once.
And again.
And again.
She gripped the hard muscles of his thighs, trying to anchor herself as her body bucked helplessly against him. But there was no anchor that could hold her. He wouldn’t allow it, forcing her to the brink, then flinging her over. The climax rocketed through her, urgent and explosive, while his hand silenced her cries.
But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. All he’d done was whet her appetite, only reminding her of the depth of her
hunger.
As quietly as she could, given the raging need inside her, she turned and straddled him, feeling the cold shock of cement against her knees, startling against the heat in the rest of her body.
Her trembling hands fumbled a little as she found the zipper of his pants and drew it down slowly and oh, so quietly. His eyes were gleaming slits, mesmerizing her as she released him, warm and solid, into her hand. She took a moment to stroke him, loving the feel of him.
Her body ached, wanting him deep inside her. “I don’t suppose you—”
“In my pocket.”
Even in the dim light her surprise must have registered, for he continued, “I was planning to come by your place later.”
Feeling wonderfully smug, she waited until he’d sheathed himself, then, lifting her hips, she guided him through the ragged tear in her panty hose, and pushing her thong to one side, nudged him against the still-throbbing entrance to her body.
She gazed at his face for a moment. It was rigid with suppressed tension, the jaw clamped, eyes half-shut. Very deliberately, she placed a hand over his mouth and brought his up to cover hers once more. Then she lowered herself slowly, feeling the delicious stretch, taking him deep.
She set the pace, and she kept it slow, partly to keep the noise to a minimum, but partly, she had to acknowledge, to watch the helpless need build in his eyes as he thrust up against her. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. His nostrils distended as his breathing thickened, sending puffs of warm breath against her knuckles.
Her own breathing was just as thick, her need just as potent. As she struggled to drag air into her lungs, she smelled coffee beans, dust and cement, leather and sweat. With each slide of her body against his, she felt the connection between them deepen, until she couldn’t hold back any longer. Her hand squeezed hard against his mouth in warning, and he responded, pressing his palm more firmly over her lips.
Their gazes locked, saying all the things they couldn’t say with their covered mouths. Unable to keep to her slow pace, she thrust her hips faster, pushing them both beyond control. As her body spasmed around him, squeezed by wave after wave of pleasure, his hand stopped her cries. She kept her gaze on his, watching his eyes widen and darken, until the moment when he also broke. She felt the rigid control slip as he bucked up inside her, once, twice, three times as she felt the glorious rush of his passion.
She slumped forward, amazed their noisy breathing alone hadn’t been enough to summon the guards. But after listening for a tense moment, she heard a hoarse cry of triumph. “Full house beats your straight.”
“Jeez. You got all the luck tonight,” the rat-lover grumbled good-naturedly.
Jake kissed her palm as she started to remove it from his mouth. “He’s wrong,” he murmured. “I got all the luck.”
She wanted to touch him and hug him, snuggle under the duvet and swap secrets in sleepy lovers’ voices. Under the circumstances, she contented herself with leaning forward and kissing him, slowly and thoroughly.
Jake went along with it all right, but she could tell his heart wasn’t in it.
“What the matter?” she whispered in her sleepy lover’s voice into his ear.
“I don’t want to get caught bare-assed by the guards,” he muttered, shifting her off his lap.
“Oh. Right.”
They fumbled their clothing back into place, although it was awfully breezy where her nylons had been sliced open. She reached for Jake’s hand while they settled back to wait. They overheard the muffled sounds of another hand of poker in progress, and she tried not to wonder about the whereabouts of the rat. And whether or not it lived alone. Jake glanced at his watch from time to time, but otherwise sat as still as the unopened crates.
Now that the fun was over, boredom set in. They hadn’t found anything but chopsticks. The floor was cold and hard, she was tired, she wanted to go home.
Maybe he read her mood, for Jake put an arm around her and pulled her toward him, dropping a light kiss on her hair.
She felt a wash of tenderness for this strong, scary man who made her life so exciting. She snuggled against him and rested her head on his chest. For a while she listened to his heart beat, slow and regular. It was odd to feel so languorous, hiding in a warehouse with two guards, at least one rat and possibly an illegal shipment of cocaine. She thought about how happy she was that Jake had showed up. She thought about what they’d just done, and how much she wanted to do it again, at home in bed. Then she just drifted….
She jerked awake. Someone was shaking her.
“Time to go,” Jake said, his voice soft but no longer a whisper.
She blinked and stretched as she tried to get her bearings. With a shock, it all came back to her. She gazed around, wondering if she’d just had the strangest nightmare/wet dream combo of her life, but the cold cement and hunger were real, as was Jake urging her to her feet. “I can’t believe I fell asleep,” she grumbled on a yawn.
“Good thing you don’t snore.”
The card game was obviously over; she couldn’t hear the guards. “Are they gone?” she mumbled sleepily.
“Doing their rounds. Come on.”
He grabbed her hand and they skulked around the crates, past the trucking bays, over to the corner of the warehouse, where a door was set into the wall. Jake kept his back between her and the security panel so she couldn’t see what he was doing, but the next thing she knew, he’d opened the door—and no alarms sounded, no lights flashed. She remembered how easily he’d slipped past her own alarm system the night before, and wasn’t at all surprised.
Belatedly she realized she hadn’t thought to provide herself with an escape route. If Jake hadn’t been there, she’d have had to spend the entire night at Oceanic, either cowering among the crates with the rats or holed up in that teeny tiny washroom, then somehow pretend to arrive at work the next morning. In yesterday’s clothes.
She shuddered at the thought.
“Boy, am I glad that’s over.”
As they walked out into the chilly night, Cyn really thought it was over.
Until she saw the fence.
7
“JAKE. I’M SCARED of heights,” she hissed frantically.
The receiving area was completely fenced in, the gate heavily padlocked. But he led her away from the gate, to a shadowy corner. As they got closer, the fence appeared to grow higher. It had to be eight feet at least. “After you,” he said.
Where was her bravado now? Nothing in those empowerment books had mentioned climbing eight-foot fences in a skirt. “I can’t climb up there. I just told you, I’m scared of heights.”
“How else do you plan to get out of here?”
“I, uh—”
He gestured impatiently with his thumb. “Up.”
“I’m wearing a skirt, for God’s sake. Panty hose—”
“They’re already ripped. Go.”
She raised her foot, then had a thought. “It’s not an electric fence, is it?”
“Not at the moment. Up.” His hands cupped her butt and lifted her, not exactly gently, off the ground, so she had no choice but to find what foothold she could in the fencing and start climbing.
She’d never been any good at this stuff as a kid, and age hadn’t increased her agility or her courage. The cold metal fencing dug into the fleshy parts of her fingers, scraped her knees and barely gave purchase to her trainers. She’d have given up and taken her chances hiding on the property till morning, but Jake didn’t offer her a choice. He was right behind her, urging her on—close enough that she’d fall on him if she slipped.
“Don’t look down. Just keep climbing. You’re doing great.”
Cold air wafted around her legs and reminded her again of the rip in her panty hose. As she hoisted herself almost to the top, she glanced down and forgot to be scared at how high up she was perched. Jake was looking up her skirt.
“What are you doing?” she whispered furiously.
“Enjoying the view.”
She heard a muttered curse, then scuffling below her. Jake handed his black leather jacket up to her. “Put that over the barbed wire. Try not to rip it.”
She hated letting go even with one hand. But it was the only way she was going to get down. Luckily, it was dark enough that she couldn’t see the ground all that clearly. Refusing to even think about that, she gingerly took the jacket, still warm from his body, and laid it over the spiky wire. “Now what?”
“Climb up, get one leg over, find a foothold and pull the other leg over. Don’t think about it. And don’t look down.”
Her teeth were starting to chatter. She gulped and got one leg over. And froze.
“You can do it.” His voice was so calm and reasonable, some of the rigid fear seeped out. He clung like some kind of superhero to the wire fence, urging her on.
Keeping her eyes on him, she muttered a prayer and scrambled over the top. Then she half climbed, half slid to the ground as fast as possible. She hit the dirt with a thud. Once she knew she was on solid ground again she thought she was going to throw up. She bent forward, hugging her aching arms and gasping.
A dark shape plopped down at her side.
“You’re okay. Hang on,” he said, and put his jacket around her shoulders. “Let’s get you home.”
“DON’T YOU EVER, EVER do anything so stupid again!” Jake raged. “You could have blown the whole operation. Destroyed months of work. You could have been killed.”
“So could you,” she reminded him. Now that they were safe and the night’s adventure over, she had time to savor her first night as a kick-ass investigator. She’d searched for drugs, evaded guards, climbed a sky-high fence. And that didn’t even include the sex. No wonder she was high from her evening’s adventures.
And Jake with his yelling wasn’t going to spoil her mood.