1606010948-Palace-of-the-Jaguar-Womack.doc

by Palace of the Jaguar (lit)

  Right now, she was deep in the process of taking on a new identity and a new mission. The job would take her to Italy on her own. Not too exciting busting a high official for espionage at an exclusive spa, but she loved Italy and would be free to move around on her own. She planned to do some power shopping to perk up her wardrobe at the same time.

  Her mood was as low as it had ever been. All the former bravado of putting herself back on the meat market was crap. She’d never be able to look at another guy as a lover, never kiss another man, and certainly not have sex with another man. Pretty damned pitiful, Ali. Loser.

  “Donavon.”

  She jerked herself back to the present, looking at the group leader, Supervisor Milton Hamm.

  “Yes, sir?”

  He seemed to be purposely keeping her time filled and meant to run her ass off with paperwork detail. Not to mention daily weapons firing and films to watch.

  “Something’s come in that may cut you out of that assignment in Italy.” His expression rarely altered from serious to dead serious. Right now, he seemed worried about something.

  “What’s changed?” She shoved her disappointment under the table at the news she was getting bumped off a good mission.

  “We’ve been hearing chatter for a couple of months. Nothing confirmed. Just chatter. Until now.” He carried a manila envelope to where she sat and laid it on the conference table front of her. “Seems we left trouble in Bogotá.”

  The clicking in her brain brought a stream of ugly memories back. “Armandez’s brother?”

  “Yes.” Hamm sat down across from her, tapping a pencil on the table, his one nervous habit. “Gun flushed him out in New York.”

  “What happened?” That isn’t what you want to know, fool! Ask him how Gun is…is he alive? Her stomach clenched in waves of cold fear.

  “While he was arresting Conteguez, Gun was bushwhacked by several of Conteguez’s flunkies and beaten pretty badly, pistol whipped and kicked in the ribs repeatedly.” Hamm’s expression was grim. “Someone in the building heard the disturbance and called the authorities, the only thing that kept Gun alive.”

  Ali modulated her voice even though she was desperate for information, looking down as she spoke. “Gun got out okay, then?”

  “This time.” Hamm probably wasn’t aware of the cryptic tone of his words. “He was in the hospital in New York, but refused to stay. That was two weeks ago, and he’s being transferred.”

  Should she ask more questions? No. Just be grateful that the wild man was still breathing. Gun. He would drive her crazy.

  Hamm pointed to the folder in front of her. “Conteguez has been real busy from D.C. to New York.” Hamm grimaced and lit one of the South American cigars he reserved for times of great stress. “He’s wanted here in the States for the murder and torture of the Colombian ambassador and his entire family. Pregnant wife and four little girls.”

  His words were devastating. Gun injured, not sure how bad. Conteguez, mad-dog killer, loose on the world. Heart racing, she put personal concerns aside and forced herself to be calm. “We have to throw a net over that animal.”

  Hamm exhaled heavily. “The department feels this is your case, or the wrap-up of the original in Bogotá. You’ve been tapped to finish the mission.”

  She was definitely interested in getting the mission started. “Is this mandated live capture or permanent removal?”

  “We’ll of course try for a live capture, but if that isn’t possible, you are at your discretion to arrive at your safest conclusion.”

  Ali nodded, remembering the job that ended in a bloody jungle scene, running for her life after the mission was completed. Right now, that wasn’t important. She realized the pursuit of this insane murderer would be lengthy and dangerous as hell.

  Remembering the agony the bloodsucker had put them through Ali clenched her fist, giving it a mini pump of jubilation. The worm wouldn’t crawl much longer. Squashing him would be a pleasure.

  While she read the latest data on Conteguez, her thoughts burned with questions and a bit of grudging worry about Gun.

  Damn fool. You’re a professional. Things happen to partners.

  A commotion in the hallway barely roused her curiosity. Probably one of the guys coming back from a long mission out of the country and happy as hell to be back in the USA.

  She had gone back to her files when the kiss of a dark velvet voice claimed her heart. The voice she had longed to hear and feared she never would again.

  Be calm. He’s not here to see you.

  She sucked it up and managed to appear only minutely interested, not overjoyed. And she was.

  He works here, just like you.

  She stood and walked casually to the door, setting her expression to mild surprise when he finally looked her way. He was damned gorgeous, even with a black eye and a row of fresh stitches on his chin. He smiled at her with that same devil gleam in his midnight eyes.

  Dear Lord, he really is okay.

  The heat of absolute relief coursed through her body.

  “Hey, Donavon.” He sauntered toward her, in no damned hurry. “I think we’re working together again.”

  She shrugged and stayed where she was. “I can stand it if you can.”

  Chapter 34

  The St. Louis office hadn’t changed at all while he’d been gone. Milton Hamm was still the group leader, and Donavon had signed on for another tour of action. Gun couldn’t take his eyes off the only thing in the world that he wasn’t able to shake from his life. Donavon.

  They were back in the very place they had begun their firestorm relationship.

  She was thinner now, but it only gave her a sexier, tougher look. How could he still want her so badly? He wasn’t ever going to settle down with one woman and raise kids. His world didn’t allow for such luxuries.

  Remembering his failed marriage and the ugly attempts of trying to pound himself into his ex-wife’s kind of life still made him shudder with fear of repeating the mistake.

  In the final minutes before he’d left Donavon in D.C., he’d almost asked her to marry him. He couldn’t mess up her life just because he wanted to be sure she’d be waiting when and if he decided to come in to roost.

  Fuck it. Donavon wouldn’t be alone very long. She probably has someone she can depend on now.

  “Damned right, I can stand it.” He caught her hand and gave her a big brother-type hug. “You ready to hunt with the old hound?”

  Clever as hell, Gun. She’s looking at you as if your dick is hanging out of your pants.

  Her eyes were bluer than he remembered, and her smile was warm and welcoming for only a second. She quickly went back into that “I’ll kick your ass” attitude. Her voice, with its occasional little scratches, worked its way into his blood and teased his balls. Man, nothing changed around here.

  “We’re ready for you here.” She opened a thick folder of information sheets and leaned over the table to point at something. He never did see what that something was. When did she start wearing her hair up? He liked it.

  “Okay, Donavon. What’s the final order?”

  She sucked her cheeks in a little while she thought about his question. “Live capture, if possible.”

  “Hell, we both know this fucker is too dangerous and jack-batty to come along nicely.” Gun couldn’t forget the bullet that should have killed Donavon, but her luck had held one more time. “We’ll do our best.”

  He grinned at her and tried to sniff her hair.

  “Gun, you went to jail for that the first time we met.”

  “Worth every minute, too.” Okay, he didn’t want to start the relationship again. Leave her alone.

  “Hamm is waiting for us in the hall.” She drew back, out of his reach.

  “I’m ready.” Of course she didn’t want him moving back in on her. What woman would? “We can grab some coffee in the conference room, or don’t they allow that anymore?”

  “It hasn’t been that long, Gun.” Her hand
s shook, and she quickly filled them with a stack of folders, hugging them to her chest while she gazed at him. “Not that much has changed.”

  Now, what did that mean? She had someone decent, or was she still interested in him? She would tell him if that was the case. Right now, he didn’t see anything standing in his way.

  “Want to have dinner with me? I’m staying at the same fleabag.” He couldn’t drag his gaze from her mouth. “How about you?”

  “I’m staying in the same classy hotel. Different floor.” The color in her cheeks heightened, and she licked her lips.

  Gun stepped back. “Okay. Am I supposed to ask what floor or lean over and let you kick my ass?”

  Hot resentment glinted in her eyes and crimped her lips. “We work together, Gun. You didn’t care what floor I lived on for weeks on end, and now it’s uppermost on your mind?”

  He gestured in resignation. “Just thought I’d save you some pain.”

  “You kiss my ass, Gunnison.”

  “But, in the meantime, we can work well together. Right?”

  “That’s what they pay us for.”

  * * * *

  Ali steeled herself against falling into that warm, fuzzy pit. Oh, hell yes, the excitement was unbearable and the sex too good to ever want to quit. But, Gun was bad medicine. Bad mojo. His needs were sensual, fast, and temporary.

  Working with him in Bogotá had brought out the animal in her, wild and hungry. Damn it! She felt the same thing right now. She would be crazy to deny herself the dizzying flight through hours of exquisite foreplay and coming in a cosmic heat. She wanted it. Letting her resistance go, she looked around for a place they could use for a fast, hot tryst. Her mouth curved into a secretive smile. There wasn’t a place big enough for her to let go of her boatload of arousal.

  “Stop being a slut,” she murmured under her breath.

  “What’s that?” He gazed at her with his incredible dark eyes.

  “It was nothing.” She stepped around him and headed for the conference room. Being alone with him was exactly what she wanted. But, that was nuts. He would slip back into her libido again, and the pain would be twice as bad when he left again.

  He walked beside her in silence, his big body throwing out electric charges of orgasmic invitation. Ali tightened her thighs, trying to forestall the invading tingle of pleasure, angry that she was so susceptible to his special brand of sex games.

  “In here.” She hated the sharp tone of her voice, especially while his hand grazed her back just above her hips, making her want him like a drug. He probably knew it was caused by sexual frustration. “We’re ready to start working out the schedule.”

  “Hey.” Gun touched her waist to slow her retreat from him. “Lighten up, Donavon. I’ll help you ease that tension with the Gun special.”

  All bets were off. He had struck the spark, and the ever-present desire for him roared to life. “You’re the last thing I need, Gun.”

  He gazed at her with his damned annoying, stoic expression. “Hell yes. I can see that, but you want me. Don’t you?” His scent drew her into his magic sphere. Cedar and something oriental. What kind of man smelled like that? Oh, damn it, he did, and she wanted to bury her nose in his strong neck.

  She had the irrational desire to see him on his knees, begging for her favors. Damn him. He wasn’t getting in her pants, not this time.

  “I hear you got into a scuffle in New York.” She turned and walked back into the file room.

  “No, I just paint up like this for fun.”

  Ali wanted to kiss the black eye and the stitches on his bruised chin. He grinned at her, and she looked away, not wanting him to see her sympathy for his pain.

  The rest of the day was quiet. The silence broken only by the rustle of paper or a desk drawer closing with a hollow thump, and that, mixed in with an occasional brief exchange of information.

  Gun took every opportunity to touch his knee to hers under the table, his arm coming around her shoulders as he reached for something. He was driving her wild with his constant covert caresses.

  Hamm worked alongside them until there was a real and workable plan of action. He studied the chart Ali had made of her tracking plan.

  “Donavon, this is going to work. Conteguez is still in New York according to FBI informants, and that is the logical place to start.” He held his hand out to Gun. “What have you come up with, Gun?”

  “I don’t like Donavon’s ideas or route.” He gave his papers to Hamm who looked dismayed.

  “Not New York?” Hamm glanced at Ali and caught her frown.

  Gun gestured toward the map of New York’s Wall Street. “New York, yeah, but not the plush side of Fifty-seventh Street

  . That bugger is in the tenements. If he’s still there.”

  Ali took the paper from Hamm and studied it for a moment. A completely different plan from hers. “What are you talking about, Gun? That ego freak is accustomed to fine things, not squalor.”

  “So, he knows Donavon will think that way.” He didn’t meet her hard stare, but she could see he was grinning.

  “Gun could be right, but I don’t buy it.” She thumped his thigh with her fist under the table.

  Hamm lifted his hands and leaned back in his chair. “Talk this over, and we’ll get back on it first thing in the morning.”

  Gun stretched and eyed her with his dark gaze, his sexy mouth set in a half-smile. “You thought any more about our earlier conversation?”

  “We conversed?” She hadn’t thought of anything else. “Refresh my memory.” She gathered up the files and map books. “And I’d like to know how you plan on finding Conteguez.”

  “I figured I’d just follow you.” He glanced at his watch and then out the window. “Looks like it’s going to freaking snow.”

  “I don’t give jack-shit if there’s a blizzard. We work this out first thing tomorrow. When we have a set plan, we tell Hamm we’re ready.” Ali finished putting her information sheets in an orderly stack and held her hand out for his files. “Well?”

  He held them out toward her. “Right.” He stood and leaned over her shoulder, grazing his cheek against hers. “I’ll order pizza, and we can lie on the floor and watch it snow from my balcony doors.” He didn’t move back when she stood. She wasn’t budging, doing a fucking great job of a face-off, close enough to press her nice melons — as he called her breasts — against his chest. “You need those cold feet warmed up. I still have those big old heavy socks you like.”

  She laughed wryly and calmly stepped around him. “That’ll never happen.”

  He laughed and stayed close to her as they signed out for the night. “I’ll wait up for you.”

  Chapter 35

  Ali stared out the window of her hotel suite and wondered what Gun was doing. She wasn’t going to call him. That would seem too anxious, and he’d love that. He said he’d wait up — but that didn’t mean he’d meant for her to show up at his door. Knowing him, a few broken ribs and stitches wouldn’t slow him down. Damn it.

  She turned away from the window, and paced the floor, yearning to feed the hunger gnawing at her. Grabbing a bag of M&M’s, she munched a handful as she paced. What would he do if she really did show up at his door? And if he had female company? She wanted to find out. No, she couldn’t be silly enough to spy on him.

  Tossing the bag onto the bed, she went to the closet and took out her heavy, long coat along with fresh jeans and a gray sweatshirt. You’re a fool, Ali. But, you have to do it.

  Revived by the prospect of having some fun, she stripped off her bra and panties before pulling on her jeans and sweatshirt. The bare-butt feel excited her, and she hurried to lace up her ankle boots.

  She clipped her weapon onto the waist of her jeans and wondered how many women went to call on their men armed to the teeth. Didn’t matter. He wouldn’t know her without the arsenal.

  Time to pay a call on Gun. His pad was two blocks away and The Fat Boy Pizza place happened to be on the way. Rig
ht across the street from Mabel’s Fun and Games Adult Trinket shop.

  He’d brought her a musical dildo some liquor flavored massage oil while they had a few days in D.C. The dildo was a bust, but the oil was prima. She did fancy the ribbed and nubby condoms. A little kick in the ass.

  Total time wasted getting out on the street was minimal. She didn’t lose a second of time she could be with Gun, the plus factor pushing her along came down in big, heavy flakes, swirling down fast and piling up quickly. The street hummed with an eerie silence, lending a mysterious feel to the night.

  She stopped in the pizza joint and bought two large pizzas, one triple cheese and double pepperoni and sausage for Gun, the meat eater. He’d better damn well have some soft drinks waiting. She huffed at her thought. The man only knew about instant coffee. She added two packs of cola to her tab.

  Trudging through the crystal snow, she made her way to the adult novelty shop. It was empty except for the garishly painted-up clerk. He grinned when she explained what she wanted, selecting several new and supposedly exciting items. A glow-in-the-dark cock ring and some tingling condoms. She’d let Gun be the judge of their performance rating.

  The night was perfect for a surprise visit to an unsuspecting man, cold, eerie, and with an armload of gifts for the jackass.

  Holding the pizza close and with her bag of toys loaded on top of the boxes, she trotted the rest of the way to his apartment building. The small courtyard was being covered up fast with the dazzling snow, and the lights in the windows looked inviting. He’d said the third floor. She went to the heavy front door and pushed it open, bringing a shower of snow in with her.

  Checking the mailboxes, she found him. Joe Gunther—his alias in apartments and hotels—Apartment 333

  .

  Getting on the elevator, she began to rethink her reason for being there. He deserved being intruded on, even if he wasn’t alone. She scowled. He isn’t your property.

  She was a fool. So what? She had been hot to get back in his blankets ever since leaving Washington. And, sister, he is yours tonight!