Operation Notorious

by Justine Davis

  When he could take no more he lifted up slightly, looking into her eyes. She arched upward, pressing herself against him, and he could feel the taut points of her nipples against his chest. He couldn’t ignore that readiness, could he? He bent his head and caught one with his lips, flicked it with his tongue, then suckled deeply. She cried out, her body fairly rippling in response.

  He was too close, he had to pull back. But when he did, her hand slid down his body, then hesitated, almost shyly. He couldn’t resist and took her hand to move it that last critical distance. Her fingers curled around his erection, stroked. His breath came out in a hiss, and her name broke from him just at her touch.

  He was hanging on to his last bit of control by a thread. For a man used to ever and always being in control, this was uncharted territory, a place he never thought he would find. He fumbled for a moment, but her hand was still on him and she guided him. And then he was sliding into her body, his way eased by her own readiness, and that alone roused him even further. When he was sheathed in her, her body hot and tight around him, he shuddered at the feel of it. And then she moved, as if wanting him deeper, and that thread snapped.

  He became something he didn’t even recognize, voracious, starving, and she was the only thing that could slake his hunger. The man known for orchestrating a trial, for coaxing a jury with elegance and finesse, for having a mind that never lost track or focus, was beyond thinking of anything other than the woman in his arms. It wasn’t simply that she fired every sense, inflamed every nerve. It was more, deeper, and if he hadn’t been so consumed by the sensations she was triggering he might have been alarmed at the intensity of it.

  In the end he could not think at all but only feel. When he felt her body clench around him, heard her cry out his name in a voice unlike anything he’d ever heard, he gave up trying to hold back. He groaned her name in turn and poured himself into her.

  He had never believed in this kind of fierceness but now he had no choice but to believe. Because Katie Moore had not only reached places in him that had never been touched, but she had reached places he hadn’t even known existed.

  Chapter 30

  Gavin had always figured it would be Katie who had second thoughts. That was, during those moments when he’d allowed himself to even consider giving in to the need she inspired in him.

  Of course, he’d been incredibly, impossibly, a million times wrong about what that would be like, too. Heat rocketed through him at the memory of all the times they’d come together last night, making the cold outside the car now and the rain splattering on his windshield meaningless. He felt his body clench involuntarily when he thought of the last time, in the early hours of the morning, when it had been Katie who had awakened him, wanting. And in those moments, nothing could have shaken his conviction that she was the most genuine, honest woman he’d ever met.

  But now he was in a quandary. The logical, common sense side of him was declaring last night a mistake. An unwise, entangling, complicated mistake. But every other part of him, body, heart and soul, was reveling in the wonder of the purest, most consuming experience of his life, both physical and emotional. All the references he’d heard about mind-blowing sex applied, but there was so much more.

  So much that last night he hadn’t been able to even think coherently about those reasons it was a mistake.

  But now, as he drove to Foxworth in response to Quinn’s call, Katie driving behind him in her own car so she could get to the library in time for Saturday hours, all those reasons hammered at him. That he was, in essence, working for her was only the smallest of them.

  The largest was a looming fear that what faith he had left in his judgment was going to be destroyed. He’d sensed all along that Steven Moore was hiding something. Yet he hadn’t believed it was guilt for the murder of Laurel Brisbane. But by then he was already attracted to Katie, and now he couldn’t stop wondering if he’d done it again, let his attachment to someone cloud his vision.

  Although, what he felt for Katie was a lot more than just attachment. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before.

  ...a lifelong challenge.

  He knew in his gut that the words she’d said would apply both ways. It would take a lifetime to learn all the qualities of this woman. And what an amazing exploration it would be, of the Katie who could discuss deep philosophies or quote poets, then turn around and dress up as an animated character to entertain a bunch of kids.

  And me, too.

  He couldn’t deny that seeing her in that long, silky blue dress with her hair down in a braid had been...entertaining. At least, it had had him entertaining thoughts that had only propelled him further down this path he’d tried to avoid.

  He should have tried harder, he thought as he made the turn the GPS indicated, only vaguely aware of where he was in relation to Foxworth. He should have tried harder because what if his instincts had betrayed him again? What if the more he was personally connected to a case, the more likely his gut would go haywire?

  For the first time in his career, both in the limelight and out, Gavin considered options he never would have thought of before. Options like not digging too deep, for fear of what he might find. Like looking for innocent explanations instead of the truth.

  Like lying.

  He felt the thought as if it were a physical thing, a solid blow to the gut driving all the air out of his lungs.

  He had actually thought that. Thought about lying, the thing he hated most, to protect Katie’s feelings. Because learning her father was guilty wouldn’t just break her heart, it would shatter it irreparably.

  And there’d be nothing of it left for you.

  He groaned inwardly at the knowledge that a week ago he hadn’t even known she existed. And now...

  Memories of last night again shot through his brain like a summer lightning storm, the brilliance of them blinding him to anything else. Wouldn’t hanging on to what he’d found be worth any price? Wouldn’t—

  Cutter yelped, sounding alarmed. Gavin’s attention snapped back to his surroundings. The oncoming car he’d only been aware of on that autopilot level veered sharply, suddenly, into his lane. He hit the brakes. Rafe had told him once that in hot situations time sometimes seemed to slow down. It was really your brain kicking into overdrive, but the effect was as if everything else was going in slow motion. He’d never experienced it before, but he did now.

  His mind sorted the possibilities rapid fire. Swerve right? Fairly deep ditch on that side of the road. Crash could be ugly. Swerve left? The other driver would likely try to correct, and put them back on a head-on course. Unless he was hydroplaning and had no control.

  Or unless it was intentional.

  The oncoming car was barely fifteen feet away now. He had no choice.

  “Hang on, dog,” he muttered and yanked the wheel to the right.

  * * *

  A gasp broke from Katie as Gavin’s car swerved ahead of her. She heard an impact, and a loud scrape of metal. Something hit the street, bounced toward her. In a split second she decided to go over it with the center of her vehicle, her brain telling her it was small enough and to keep her tires away from it. She caught only a glimpse of the other car, the one that had sideswiped Gavin’s rental. It sped past, clearly not intending to stop.

  And then she saw nothing but Gavin’s car skidding sideways. Heard nothing but the screech of tires. And then came the heart-stopping, horrendous thud that she’d swear she felt as his car ended up on its side in the ditch, facing back the way they had come. Which meant the driver’s side not only took the brunt of the impact, but ended up embedded in the rain-softened dirt.

  She hit her emergency flashers as she braked, hard. She left her car half in the lane, thinking it would both draw attention and act as a barrier. If it got hit, so be it.

  She grabbed her phone and dialed 9-
1-1 as she hurried toward the edge of the road. She tried to speak coherently as she half ran, half slid down the embankment, heedless of the mud, focused only on getting to the vehicle that was lying ominously on its side. She barely heard the dispatcher’s assurances before she stuffed the phone back in her pocket and kept going. A memory flashed through her mind, of him getting into the car in her driveway just minutes ago. Of how she had been wishing she didn’t have to work today, so she could stay with him, so they could have a leisurely Saturday exploring this new, wonderful thing that had sprung to life between them.

  Had she seen him fasten his seat belt, or not? She couldn’t remember. But surely he had.

  A rush of sensation flooded her as she remembered those luscious hours in his arms last night. And in these moments now, when she was terrified of what she might find, she faced the truth. However foolish, however fast it had been, she had fallen, hard and irrevocably, for Gavin de Marco.

  She heard a bark, realized that somehow Cutter had gotten out of the car. He seemed unhurt, because he was digging madly in the mud, sending up a spray behind him. Trying, she realized, to get to Gavin.

  She skidded the last couple of yards. Felt the rush of cold water on her feet as she reached the bottom. The car was indeed embedded; it had hit hard. There was no point in her even trying to get to him from that side.

  Cutter looked up at her, whined. She clawed her way over to the passenger door, peered through the wet, mud-spattered window. Belatedly she realized the back side window was down and noted vaguely that that must be how the dog had gotten out. Why had Gavin been driving with it down and why hadn’t she noticed, she wondered inanely. Then she realized she was thinking of unimportant things to avoid the most important.

  “Gavin!” It broke from her, everything she was feeling echoing in her voice.

  And then Gavin moved, lifting his head. He looked at her. She saw blood streaming down the left side of his face. She bit back a scream; hysteria was the last thing he needed right now.

  She reached for the passenger door. It unlatched, but seemed impossibly heavy. She got it open to where she could get her shoulder against the inside, then pushed. Since she was trying to open it almost vertically, it took her a moment. She didn’t know if the latch would hold once she got it open, but as long as it let her in she didn’t care.

  She clambered in, heedless of the mud she was spreading from her boots. She heard a scratching noise, realized Cutter had jumped back through the window he’d escaped out of, and into the back seat. She grabbed at anything she could reach to keep from just dropping on top of Gavin.

  “Pinned,” he said, and she heard the sound as he tried to pull his left leg clear of the crumpled door and dash.

  She had to tear her gaze away from his bloody face and order herself to calm down. She had to bend and twist awkwardly, but she got to where she could reach his leg. Urgently she ran her fingers over it, probing, looking for injury or a reaction from him.

  “It’s not broken,” he said, sounding steadier. “Just trapped.”

  She reached farther, down to just above where the driver’s door had crumpled inward. “I think it’s your jeans, mostly,” she said. “There’s a piece of bent metal and it’s snagged them.”

  “I told you I shouldn’t have gotten dressed this morning.”

  Her head snapped around and she stared at him. He gave her a rather lopsided, wry grimace, but then he smiled, as if he were remembering what had prompted those earlier words. That he could look at her like that, despite being bloodied and trapped, sent a thrill through her that was entirely unsuited to the moment. She dared to hope she wasn’t alone in this madness he’d brought out in her.

  “When I get out of here,” he said, his voice sounding a little strained, “I’d like to talk about whatever you just thought.”

  No, you wouldn’t, she thought, but she said briskly, “Let’s take care of getting you out of here first. Although perhaps we should wait for the fire department.”

  Cutter gave a sharp bark then, and if he was expressing an opinion about waiting, it came through loud and clear.

  “Agreed,” Gavin said. “I want the hell out of here.”

  “Right,” she said. “You don’t happen to have a knife in the car, do you? I can go get my escape tool—”

  “Glove box.”

  She scrambled over and opened the compartment. It only took her a moment to find a tool similar to the one she carried on her key chain only larger. In this land of water and bridges, it only made sense to have something that could both break a window and slice through a seat belt. The blade, however, was in a protected notch of the tool, and not really designed for slicing through an awkward fold of denim. And one she was having trouble keeping a grip on while sawing at it.

  When Cutter wiggled his way first into the front seat, then down onto the floorboards, Katie almost shooed him away; he was only lessening what space she had to maneuver. But as she opened her mouth to speak to the dog, he caught the hem of Gavin’s jeans in his teeth and pulled.

  The fabric was suddenly taut, and Katie had both hands free to maneuver the blade. In a matter of seconds she had cut through the fabric and his leg was free.

  Immediately he started to move.

  “Are you sure you shouldn’t stay still?”

  “Nothing’s broken,” he insisted. “I’ll be stiff and sore later, and probably have a hell of a headache, but right now I can move.”

  Cutter apparently agreed, for he scrambled back out of the car. Katie, too, eased her way back out. Once she was standing on the muddy ground again, she held the door, making sure it didn’t slam on Gavin as he worked his way up out of the car.

  As Cutter nosed at him Katie looked him over anxiously, afraid there might be some serious injury—as if his bloody head wasn’t enough—they hadn’t noticed.

  “I’m fine,” he assured her as he reached down to Cutter. She thought he was just going to pet the helpful dog, but when he began to run his hands over the animal she realized he was checking for any injury. Something she should have done, she thought with no little regret. But he seemed to find nothing of concern, and gave the dog a final pat.

  “Thanks for the help, buddy.” He straightened, shifted his gaze back to Katie.

  “I’m still trying to figure out how he got out,” she said, relieved a bit at how easily he’d bent over to inspect the dog.

  “Knowing him, he probably opened the window. He could have gotten to the button.”

  Katie managed a smile. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  Gavin shook his head. Or at least started to, then stopped, quickly enough that her concern spiked again. “I know he was probably just trying to pull me out,” he said, “but funny how he ended up doing exactly what you needed.”

  “More like amazing,” Katie said, still not quite able to accept that he had escaped serious injury. What if something turned up later? It happened that way sometimes. Especially if that cut on his head was something more. She didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to think of him being seriously hurt, or worse. What would she do if she lost him, now that she’d just found him? It had been bad enough when he’d been attacked outside her library, but now, after last night, she couldn’t even bear the thought.

  “I’m fine,” he repeated. “But keep looking at me like that.”

  Her gaze shot back to his face. Sometimes she forgot she was dealing with a man who’d become famous in part because he could read people like few could.

  Cutter let out a loud, sharp bark. It snapped her out of her emotional morass.

  “Can you get up the slope?” she asked briskly, not wanting to have this conversation here and now. “I’ve got a first aid kit in my car. We can clean up that cut on your head.”

  Gavin was once more looking at Cutter, who was staring tow
ard the road. “Might as well leave it,” he said. “I’m guessing the cavalry’s approaching.”

  Even as he said it she heard the siren. Cutter’s sharper canine ears had obviously picked up the sound much sooner. Katie relaxed slightly; the professionals were there now, and if there was any hidden injury, like a concussion, they’d find it.

  That was, they would once the younger EMT quit gaping at him.

  “You are Gavin de Marco, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “Afraid so,” Gavin muttered.

  “We heard about your incident with the guy with the knife.”

  “News travels fast.”

  “Small department.” The older partner, a man in his midthirties who was apparently training the younger, stepped in and took over. His brisk tone was a mild rebuke to the trainee’s loss of professionalism. “Sheriff’s traffic unit is on the way. Guy never stopped?”

  “No,” Katie said. “He just kept going. I didn’t see which way at the intersection, because...”

  She let her voice trail off and gestured at Gavin. The man nodded; she guessed he understood the priorities here because they were his, as well. He checked Gavin over quickly, then checked more thoroughly while the younger partner cleaned and bandaged the cut on his temple. He used his flashlight to do a vision test, then had Gavin watch his fingers as he moved them. Finally he nodded.

  “Doesn’t look like there’s a concussion,” he said. “And your leg will probably bruise, but I don’t think there’s any serious damage.”

  “Lucky me,” Gavin muttered, but added a sincere “Thank you” to the medic.

  The older man studied him for a moment. “First a guy with a knife, now a hit and run? How long have you been a trouble magnet?”

  Gavin grimaced. “Normally, I’m not anymore. That seems to have changed since I got here, though.”