"I've got to go, Chris. I should let this thing with James McDonald go, but I can't and it's more than falling in lust with his brother."
Lust? That was new for little sis. About time too. It'd be nice to have some nieces and nephews, and heaven knows he wasn't making much progress in the love department. One of them ought to be thinking about marriage and kids. Maybe he could find himself a nice nurse here at the hospital. Play up the wounded agent routine. It could work for him. Well, maybe after he got enough sleep he'd actually open his eyes and scope out the field in those sexy blue scrubs. Now, that sounded like a plan. All he needed was some rest.
Louie was still talking as the weariness he couldn't seem to shake dragged him down once again into the blackness.
* * * *
What a mess. Paul had been gone for less than twenty-four hours, and it was like he'd been missing in action for a month or more. There were times when running this hockey team was more like running a giant daycare. Two players with shaky grades, two players battling with each other, and another patched up after a dislocated shoulder. All in one day. Before he could head up to Surrey to help his parents make the arrangements for Jamie, he had to meet with the team, lay down the law, and put the fear of God into a roster of players with an average age of seventeen. What'd he been thinking when he bought this team? The beginnings of a headache began to tap at his skull.
Paul sat at his desk and leaned his head into his hands. He rubbed his scalp with his fingertips. He knew exactly what he was thinking when he purchased the franchise, and on any other day he could have taken these latest developments in stride. It was all part of a young team, one just like he played on years ago. This wasn't any other day, however, and he was at loss on just about everything.
His heart literally ached over Jamie's death. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right. Jamie had been a screw-up of colossal proportions. Nobody with an ounce of intelligence could argue the fact. A screw-up was one thing, but evil was another altogether. Jamie never had been a bad guy. Stupid, yes. Evil, never. As long as he lived, Paul would never forget the moment when he felt Jamie's life ebb away. He'd never in his entire life felt as helpless and hoped to God he never did again.
He should go home and get some rest except the last thing he felt was tired. It was more than Jamie's death or the problems with the team. It had a great deal to do with tall and beautiful. Two nights they'd spent together. Two crazy nights and he felt like he found what he'd been looking for all his life without even realizing he'd been searching. He closed his eyes and he saw her face. He took a breath and he smelled her perfume. He opened his hand and he felt her breast against his fingertips.
Paul had never been in love before and wondered if it felt something like this. Not that he was in love with Louie Russell. That would be impossible. He only met her a few days ago and people, rational people, didn't fall in love over the course of a couple of days.
Still, he missed her and wished he could see her or talk to her. That too would be improbable. She'd been on the job looking for Jamie so that she could turn him over to the authorities. It had been a job for her and the job was now done. She'd collect her pay and move on to the next case. He'd be surprised if he ever saw her again.
The thought made his stomach lurch. He hadn't really thought about it like that before and it made him frown. It shouldn't. It wasn't like he hadn't done that himself a time or two. He'd played professional hockey for years. Women waited outside the locker rooms everywhere he'd played. Was this how those puck bunnies had felt? He suspected they had, and the shame he should have felt at the time now washed him over like dirty bath water. Cold, dirty bath water.
He pushed the guilt aside and thought instead of Louie. He didn't want the magic they created under the stars to be all there was to their relationship. He didn't want that one night to be the only night and yet he didn't know how to go from here. He didn't know if Louie cared one way or the other. Maybe she didn't want to see him again. Maybe it wasn't as special for her as it felt to him.
This train of thought was driving him crazy. He had many other things to worry about. He didn't have the time or the energy to waste on a woman right now. Even if she was the most special woman he ever met. Silken hair and ivory skin…He could imagine how beautiful their children would be.
Enough already. Paul shoved his chair back and kicked off his shoes. They landed on the far side of the room with a thud. He reached for his skates and jammed them on his feet. The ice never failed him. Most of the team was gone for the day and so far Bill hadn't run the Zamboni over the ice yet. This would be a great time to work off a little of the stress that had him wired. At least this time, Bill wouldn't scowl at him for messing up his pristine ice.
Today, he left his stick in the office. He hit the ice like a sprinter, moving as fast as his legs could push him. He circled the rink again and again, each loop faster than the one before it. His breath came quicker, his heart thumped and the muscles in his legs burned more with every pass. He focused only on the skating. His body buzzed and his lungs were on fire. Still he pushed harder and faster until nothing existed except the scrape of ice beneath his skates.
He didn't want to feel anything except the burning of his muscles. When he looked up and saw Louie, he came close to crashing into the nearest board. He didn't know how long she'd been standing there, his concentration so intent on pushing his body to the absolute limit. At least she wouldn't wonder why he wasn't in the pros any longer.
He didn't crash and recovered with what he hoped was at least a little grace. His breathing was still heavy when he skated to the nearest door, stepped off the ice and onto the rubber pad with shaky legs.
"Hi." She looked a little tired and a little sad.
She looked beautiful.
He meant to say hello back and then did something that surprised him. He reached out, pulled her close, and kissed her hard and deep.
And he wasn't one bit sorry.
Chapter Thirteen
Okay, now this was just plain nuts. They were far from alone in the huge building and anybody could walk in to see them sucking face like a couple of teenagers. So, would Louie back off? Not a chance. She returned his passion and upped the ante. His lips were sweet against hers, the taste of his sweat salty against her tongue.
Her face was flushed and her breathing ragged when Paul pulled away. She could have gone on kissing him like that for hours.
"I'm s-sorry," he stuttered. "That was out of line."
"Are you really sorry?" Louie raised an eyebrow.
He blinked and then smiled. "No."
"Me either." She returned the smile and took him by the hand, leading him back to the office she sat in the first day they'd met. They'd have privacy there.
With his skates on, Paul towered over her. Once they were in the office with the door shut, he pulled her into his arms again, his body hot and sticky. He smelled all man. "I'm glad you're here."
"Back at ya." She kissed his neck. "Mmm, salty."
A growl sounded low in his throat, like the one she'd heard under the stars and it made her pulse roar. "You're dangerous." His words were muttered against her ear, his breath hot.
"Well, I do carry a gun."
"It's not your gun I'm worried about."
She leaned away from him and studied his face. "I worry you?"
She hadn't stopped to think about how she might be affecting him. So far she'd been focused on her own feelings, how strange it was to be hot and bothered for a man she knew little about, though she'd spent more than a few minutes googling him and the reading was quite interesting. That was just the press and she knew better than to use that as measuring stick for the real man.
He let her go, walking to the battered sofa where he sat and began to take off his skates. His eyes were focused on his feet. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not."
"Well, that's just about as clear as mud." She went over and sat next to him on the sofa. Maybe she'd gone too far, but he'd ini
tiated the kiss. All she'd done was reciprocate. Right?
"What brought you here?" he asked.
She could lie and make up some excuse about needing more information on James. It would save face in many ways except it wasn't true. She wanted to be up front with Paul. Honesty was important.
"I came to see you."
"Why?" He dropped the skates to the floor with a loud thud. He turned to look at her, his brilliant green eyes focused on her face. She had absolutely no idea what was going through his mind at the moment.
Damn, but he was handsome. She was surprised some supermodel hadn't snapped him up years ago. What he saw in her was a mystery. Louie was a long way from supermodel and could never compete at that level. Not that she was ugly. She was confident in her own style and look; it worked for her without requiring too much effort on her part. She just wasn't a beautiful woman and never would be. Not to mention primping wasn't exactly her style. Way too much work when she could be doing something far more interesting.
She looked over at Paul now and wondered what she should tell him. She started with the truth so she might as well go for it—balls to the wall as Chris loved to say.
With a breath, she said quickly, "Because I was afraid you'd leave for Canada and I might never see you again."
He reached out and touched her hair. His eyes became soft, and Louie decided she'd never seen a more beautiful man. "You will see me again."
"Promise?" Her voice was a husky whisper.
He pulled her to him and kissed her. "Promise."
She was breathless a moment later when she came up for air. She laughed lightly. "You'd think we were both about seventeen."
He kissed her lips, her cheeks, her eyes. "I don't know about you but I feel like I'm seventeen again. Even with everything horrible that's happened, the second I touch you, nothing else matters. You make me feel hope."
She ran her hand against his cheek, liking the way fine stubble tickled her palm. "This is crazy, you know."
"Yup." He pressed his body against hers, and she could tell exactly how he was feeling. "Crazy."
She put both hands on his chest and pushed herself back. "I am not doing that here."
"You were game up there in the deep, dark forest." His eyes were sparkling.
She schooled her features into her I-mean-business expression. "Yes, well, I have a perfectly good bed at home and the next time you want to jump my bones, you can plan on doing it there."
"How does half an hour sound?" He winked.
She tingled from head to foot at his suggestion and hoped she didn't flush a telltale red all over. She didn't need to broadcast her willingness any more. She leaned into him and kissed him quick. "Make it an hour."
He groaned. "I don't think I can wait that long."
"All the better."
Louie jumped up and hurried to the office door. She blew him a kiss. "You have one hour."
* * * *
He had plenty of undisturbed time to go through her desk. The office was as empty as the parking lot had been when he let himself in. No one would be the wiser and he'd be all the better informed. He needed to know what Russell did. After he finished going through her records, he left everything as he found it. Gloves made certain he didn't leave fingerprints.
The search of her office and files didn't turn up much. Good for him and good for her. The less she knew, the longer she'd stay alive. Still, he had to be certain. There was far too much at stake to let anything slip at this point.
What he didn't like was the fact she not only had the files for James McDonald still on her desk, but she'd also pulled the files on her brother. Right next to those two were photocopies of the police reports on Kendall Stewart. She wasn't closing things out like she needed to do if she wanted to stay alive.
Not that he was all that surprised. Louie Russell rarely did what she was told. Rumor had it that while with the Spokane Police Department she caused more than a few ruffled feathers with her no-nonsense style and refusal to bend to pure politics. It was probably a good thing she'd switched careers. In the long run, she may not have made it within a system that clung to its politics with such feverish dedication. She was a rogue, an individual with a strong sense of right and wrong. It was all black and white for Russell. There was never any gray.
He understood that in the real world there was much gray. He was one who embraced that shadowy land falling somewhere between right and wrong where he felt most comfortable and most at home. She'd never be able to understand and it really was a shame. She could be valuable in his business if she'd open her mind to the possibilities it presented. The real world was far more gray than black or white. She refused to grasp that reality and wishing otherwise wasn't going to change her. That was why he was here now. She must be watched and possibly stopped at the same end of the barrel that had been pointed at her brother's head.
If she was to stay alive, somehow she'd have to be guided away from pursuing the McDonald issue any further. She didn't need to stick her nose in where it wasn't needed. Besides, plenty of police were on the case. The thought of everyone looking for him, the mysterious gunman, made him smile. Even with the ballistics matches that had been made, they'd never track it back to him. So beautiful and so entertaining.
He'd planned to use an untraceable rifle on McDonald and then decided what the hell. Much more fun to use Old Faithful on number three. The games were the best part of the chase for him, and he took his fun wherever he could find it. Everything he did had to have an element of entertainment or what was the point? A person only went around one time, and he had every intention of making his go-around enjoyable.
Then there was the urge to put holes in chests or the occasional forehead. Hey, once a trained killer, always a trained killer. That urge wasn't something a person took on and off like a jacket. Once that particular coat was on, it was on for life. Sorry if folks didn't like it, but they were the ones who'd made him this way, so they'd just have to find a way to live with it. He sure had.
Still, he liked Louie and didn't want to have to exercise his considerable skill on her tasty little body. Few women held a candle to her either in looks or brains. Such a waste if he was forced to put her down. She could handle a gun as well as any man he'd ever run into, and that meant a great deal to him. Guns were the most alluring lover he ever encountered. He'd been entranced as a young man, and they'd never lost their luster in his heart. Unlike most people, guns were dependable. They never argued, they never aged, they never failed.
Now that James McDonald was in cold storage, the immediate pressure was off. He'd been the last link to big trouble, and probably the most dangerous. Not because he was vicious or threatening; just the opposite. McDonald had been a threat because he'd been both honest and stupid at the same time. Rather odd considering his decision to join in a criminal endeavor. He'd been a naive drug runner whose heart wasn't in it. He wanted the easy money. They all wanted money. Who didn't?
What James hadn't wanted was the criminal persona and the violence that always lurked just beneath the surface. What he came to find out, as did all who put their toes into this particular pool, was that he couldn't have one without the other. When he tried, the price was very high. He wasn't able to swim. McDonald drowned.
He, on the other hand, found a way to reconcile the whole mess within his own heart. Sleep came quite easy and untroubled. Any doubts he had about the business and what he'd become had been managed a very long time ago.
When there was nothing left to read, he clicked off the reading lamp on the corner of Russell's desk and left her office. She'd never know he was there, never realize he'd been through every paper and file in her office. He was good. He was very, very good. If anyone harbored doubt, all they had to do was ask him.
The door closed with a quiet snap and the room was thrown into blackness. He turned in the hallway between the two offices and stopped short, halted by a presence he hadn't expected.
His heart lurched. A woman s
tood in the doorway, a tiny dark shadow against the golden glow filtering in from the parking lot lights. Then, as he got a good look at the other visitor, a smile crept up his face.
"Tsk, tsk." He moved slowly toward the old woman.
She backed away from him. "She'll know." Meg's voice trembled.
"Not if no one tells her," he said smugly.
Her small hand was on the handle of the outer door. "I'll tell her. I already left a message for her."
"Now that's a shame."
"I'm not scared of you." She stood tall and proud, her hand dropping away from the door. "I've faced worse than you."
He smiled and closed the distance between them with two steps. His hands circled her thin neck. "Oh, I doubt that."
* * * *
The thought she was going nutso flashed through Louie's mind more than once during the drive home from the arena. Talk about throwing herself at a man. She'd all but thrown Paul on the floor of his office and ripped his clothes off. The only thing that had held her back had been the thought of her nice, comfortable king-sized bed. After the night under the stars, she was ready for something a little more refined. Beautiful as the forest had been, bed covers and a mattress had such a nice ring.
At the same, she was also ready for more than the wildness they'd shared with nature as the backdrop. Her heart thumped and she clutched her steering wheel as she recalled the fever that seemed to have gripped both of them under the dark sky with the twinkling stars. She'd never felt that before. She'd never shimmied out of her clothes in the wide-open like that before, let alone even felt like doing it. But with Paul, she hadn't been able to get out of her clothes fast enough, even surrounded by pine trees and tiny forest dwellers.
She rushed home, jumped in the shower and then slipped into a flowing cotton dress. She smoothed it over her hips once, twice, three times. She was as nervous as if she were a virgin bride awaiting her brand new husband's arrival. Pacing in front of the window, she kept glancing out at the road, lights of the occasional car hitting the window and then passing by. What seemed like an eternity later, a pair of headlights pulled into the driveway and then switched off. She smoothed the dress once more before she went to the door and opened it.
Dirty Deeds Page 16