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

by Palace of the Jaguar (lit)

  Okay. He was paying for some sin he’d committed in the past. The answer hit him like lightning. Not contacting her at all while he had been in New York was his crime, and he probably deserved whatever she threw his way. But damn, he didn’t want her to leave.

  Donavon was showing him how big an ass she thought he’d been. He could try to explain the thousand reasons for his weeks of silence, but he wouldn’t. That would only make matters worse.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  She took the stairs two at a time, not slowing up at the door. She yanked it open and flung herself out into the teeth of the nor’easter.

  “Donavon,” he yelled over the wind. “Give me your hand.”

  She didn’t fight it, but grabbed his fingers and hung on. They started up the street toward her hotel, heads down to hide from the bitter wind.

  “Damn snow’s two feet deep, Donavon. You’re nuts.”

  “Fuck you, Gun.”

  “What’s that?” He yanked her along behind him.

  “You heard me. If you’re cold, go back.” She jerked free of his grasp. “I don’t need you to get anywhere.” She ran by him and yelled. “Get away from me.”

  Any other time, he might have laughed at her anger, but this was getting serious. Aw shit, she’d fallen and almost disappeared in a snow bank.

  “Donavon, give me your hand. Now!”

  She struggled to her feet and lunged at him, taking him down with her this time.

  Now, this was funny. He laughed and rolled with her. “Donavon, you’re too much, baby.”

  Her answer was a handful of snow in his face. He caught her hand and held her tight; noticing the way her warmth seeped into him at a time like this proved he was nuts. Gun let himself drift on the night wind, smell the delectable perfume coming from her. He caught her hands, lifting them to his shoulders. “Damn, I really want you, gator gal.” He didn’t miss the lifting of her hips and the tightening of her embrace. She was looking at him, opening her mouth the way she did in passion. Gun smiled at her, letting the idea soak in that they were sprawled out in a drift of snow on a deserted street thinking about having sex.

  Ali seemed to soften her attitude and let her body fit snug to his. “You don’t really want sex right now, do you?”

  “I’m hard as granite, and you’re asking me that?” A blast of wind showered them with snow and she sucked her breath in with surprise. He covered her as much as he could, enjoying her snuggling to him. “I want you anywhere, anytime, and under all conditions. What do you say?”

  “We’ll be lucky if we aren’t arrested for lewd conduct.”

  He groaned and nuzzled her neck. Cold reality tapped him on the shoulder. Get up, fool. You’re out in a blizzard.

  She didn’t resist when he stood and hauled her up to trudge ahead. No more fighting, no more shots traded. He just wanted to get her safely out of the storm.

  By the time they reached the lobby of her hotel, Gun could barely see Donavon’s face. Snow had drifted into the folds of the shawl she’d wrapped about her head and shoulders.

  He brushed the icy crystals away and walked her to the elevator. “You okay?”

  The way she lowered her lashes was Donavon’s method of hiding emotion. He’d seen it a thousand times. “I’m fine. And thanks for walking me home.”

  “Come here.” He walked her to the far end of the hallway and pulled her close. “Sorry about the way I acted.”

  When she looked up and smiled at him, his heart bolted like a jackrabbit. “Forget it.” She touched his chin. “Maybe you’d better stay with me tonight.”

  Well, hell. In that moment, he couldn’t have loved her more. The emotion squeezed his heart into a ball and bounced it. Love her! Damn, he’d lost his mind.

  Gun kissed her deeply, gently, not pursuing sex or a quick good time. This was a kiss of devotion, a new beginning — or the end, if he didn’t deal with his feelings. Her mouth felt like honeyed silk and parted to let his tongue explore the tender underside of her lips.

  He broke the kiss and took the shawl from her head. “Donavon, I….”

  The woman had no idea what trauma he was undergoing, her smile sweet and untroubled. “What were you going to say?”

  He let her go and reconsidered his move. It would be lunacy to spring that on her. “The elevator’s here.”

  Chapter 37

  Ali managed to grab a couple hours sleep before fighting her way to the office through snowdrifts that could hide a body. Street-cleaning crews were making little headway against the howling wind and heavy snow.

  Because of inclement weather, most businesses were closed. She found herself virtually alone on the streets until she reached Homeland Security’s office.

  She was safe and warm, supplied with hot coffee, tea, and three boxes of doughnuts and HoHos, thanks to the guys that arrived before her.

  She munched on a powdered doughnut and concentrated on a new file Hamm gave her. The file meant for Gun lay unopened on the table next to her.

  When she had accepted the fact he was elsewhere for the day, Gun finally strode in, cloaked in the fresh, clean air of winter.

  “Morning, Donavon.” He took off his snow-covered parka and dusted melting flakes from his hair.

  Ali sat still while Gun draped his coat over the back of the chair next to her. She crossed her legs as he leaned over to murmur into her ear. “I want you to know, I fell in a drift and nearly froze to death before the street crew uncovered my fucking remains.”

  She shrugged to fend off warming emotions because of his nearness. “So? Why are you late?”

  “Thanks for the deep concern.” He picked up her cup and took a long drink. “How did you sleep? Nice and warm with feelings of guilt?” He grabbed the last of her doughnut and grinned at her.

  “Stop bellyaching. You did all right last night.” She snatched what was left of her doughnut from his hand. “Where were you?”

  He rubbed his chin. “I stopped by the hospital to get the last of my stitches out. Thought they might be bothering your sensitive skin.” He winked at her before turning his attention to their group leader, who entered the room with a new stack of files in his arms. “Hamm, how you doing?”

  “Glad you got here, Gun.” Hamm sat down at the table and waited for him to take the chair next to Ali. “This storm system could work to our benefit. All flights from the eastern seaboard have been terminated for the next twenty-four hours.”

  That meant Conteguez probably wouldn’t be flying out of their trap for at least the next week. Ali opened her mission file to explain their plan of action.

  “Gun and I are ready to go after him. The only thing left to do is set up base camp.”

  Hamm studied the papers Ali slid over to him. “I’ve checked with the travel liaison. Your key hotel has been set up along with credit cards. The department has found decent accommodations for you on the Upper East Side.”

  Gun penciled a circle around the Bedford-Stuyvesant area. “How about me rooming in one of those crack houses? After I scare him into running for the airport, Donavon can take him down.”

  What was he doing? Deliberately slapping down her credibility in front of Hamm. Stopping herself from knocking him off his chair took all her strength.

  “That’s a damn good idea, Gun. Here’s my plan. We flush him out as a team and take him down before he gets to the airport where thousands of people are!”

  Damn him! His expression was exactly the one he’d had on his face the first time she ran into him. Arrogant son-of-a-bitch.

  He twirled a pencil over his coffee cup, eyeing her with open ridicule. “That’s why I should head up this operation. You’re talking typical ‘lets not hurt anybody’ female stuff.”

  He might as well be cutting out her heart as to say he doubted her. She stood and pointed to Gun. “A few words in private, Gunnison.” She gave Hamm a tight smile. “Would you mind if we step out for a short talk?”

  Hamm nodded, but his scowl revealed he wa
sn’t happy. “Take five.”

  Ali stepped toward the hall door before turning to see him still relaxing in his chair. The jerk! She longed to show him how hard she could hit with her right fist.

  “Gun! Out here, please.”

  He followed her into the hall. She led the way to the deserted conference room, slamming the door after he sauntered in. She turned to face him, ashamed that anger probably showed on her face in bright red blotches.

  “You’re doing it again.” She glared at her devious partner. “You’ve tried to get rid of me from the start.”

  Gun shrugged and smiled at her. “Why the hell would I do that?”

  “Because you still don’t have faith I can handle the job. You have to be the only one, the big dog in the pack.” She spoke quietly, but her words were bitten off with a snap. “Here’s what isn’t happening. I’m not being shunted off to wait until Conteguez runs. I don’t work that way. It would be like shooting ducks in a carnival game.”

  He was quiet for a moment, but then calmly unleashed his insulting opinion. “Truth is, lady, picking him up would be a hell of a lot easier if I were alone.” Gun leaned against the wall and eyed her with cool speculation. “All you female agents get that feminista attitude.”

  She sucked her breath in to ease the claws of ice around her gut. Don’t let him see your pain.

  “It’s good we got this out in the open, Gun. And I’m not discouraged, just reminded of something I forgot. You have no discipline or normal feelings.”

  He moved away from the wall to look out the window. “Bullshit, Donavon.” He turned to stare at her. “I don’t like dragging a rock around my ankle.”

  “You’ve never dragged me anywhere. I didn’t slow you down in Bogotá.”

  His expression hardened, dark gaze iced over, making him unreadable and more intimidating. “If it hadn’t been for you, hot shot, I’d have popped Armondez and beat it out of that pit without a couple of slugs in my hide.”

  “If you’d done the right thing to begin with, you wouldn’t have taken those slugs, and I wouldn’t have been forced to drag your sorry, ungrateful ass out of the jungle.” She hated the tremors of hurt in her stomach, but held up under the assault.

  He released her arm and gestured to the door. “All done? Or do you want to rag on me some more about how much I need you?”

  Nothing had ever hurt her so badly as Gun talking down to her like a weekend piece of ass he was trying to unload.

  Tears she would die before shedding burned her eyes.

  “Nothing else, Gun. Not now or ever.”

  Donavon opened the door and walked away from him, head high and shoulders squared. He hated being the one to cause her pain, realizing her heart was probably aching almost as bad as his.

  Getting her to see what a prick he was took some doing. The woman had done the very thing he’d warned her not to do. Want him. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t break the rope of fear around his heart, fear of loving her.

  Not that she wasn’t perfect for him. Hell, Donavon was the best thing that had ever come into his crazy life. That was the sum total of the problem. He had no life to offer her. Nothing.

  If she kept hanging around him, she was going to suffer for it. Now, they were going on another mission together, and she was the target of the maniac bastard they were hunting.

  It would be Gun’s pleasure to stop Conteguez from taking his next breath and get Donavon out of danger, at least while she was with him. What she did after they split was strictly fate.

  He forced himself to think far into the future. The scene was bleak. After the mission was finished, he would step out of her life. She wanted a normal relationship and would quickly find a guy she could depend on.

  A few minutes later, feeling like a cur, Gun returned to the room where Donavon pretended not to see him. Hamm stared at him like her father probably would if he’d kept his only daughter out all night. The director thought highly of Donavon, and his stare expressed his displeasure.

  Their group leader would have to be blind and deaf not to know they were more than feuding partners. Right now, he crossed his arms over his chest, and looked from one to the other.

  “Are we finished? I want this mission given the go-ahead, without you two snarling at each other.” He leaned forward, gathering his papers. “I want your assurance this mission won’t be jeopardized by your differences. Understood?”

  Ali and Gun answered in unison. “Yes, sir. Perfectly.”

  The mini-brawl obviously didn’t shake Hamm’s faith in his agents. He went on with his instructions.

  “You have clearance to move about the airport and surrounding property. A car has been reserved for the mission and is available right now.” He scanned the itinerary page. “A pilot for the department Learjet is on alert, ready to go when we set a time.”

  Gun didn’t offer any opinions or ask questions. He just wanted to get out of the gut-wrenching relationship with Donavon.

  She went to the window. Gun could feel her resentment from across the room. She came back to the table and picked up her handbag. “I’m ready to go, sir. If the weather allows, I say we get on the trail in the morning. Before Conteguez takes a quick trip back to Colombia.”

  He glanced at her, nodding in agreement. “The sooner the better.” He took his coat from the chair and got to his feet.

  Donavon pulled her coat from the small locker near the door, and put it on. She tucked her pant cuffs into her boots. “I’ll get everything settled at the hotel. Okay if I take off now?”

  Hamm nodded. “Go ahead. Want Gun to drive you home?”

  Gun was hit by the blast of frost in the gaze she leveled on him. “No, thank you. I make better time on my own.”

  This wasn’t a good time to question her meaning or insist she ride with him. Besides, his car was buried in a drift. “Wouldn’t be a problem. I’m going your way.”

  Sometime after the soft slap of her boots in the hall faded away, he left the building and headed for his hotel. His mood darkened to black when he thought of the long night ahead of him. Devious or not, he wished he’d been a little slower telling her those lies.

  You’re the world’s biggest fool, and now, the loneliest.

  Chapter 38

  His timing couldn’t have been better for a break in their relationship. The weather echoed Ali’s emotions. Bitter cold with a shroud of deep, gray morning fog hung over the city.

  She spent a lot of time folding her clothing military style, square and small with no corners hanging out. Damn it! Was this to be her life? Small and square and murderously lonely?

  The phone on the night table jangled, and she picked up the receiver. The cheery voice of the desk clerk informed her it was seven o’clock.

  She looked at her watch. “Thank you for the call.”

  There was more to the wake-up call. The desk clerk told her Gun was waiting in the lobby.

  Wonderful. Of course he wouldn’t give her any breathing room. He didn’t need any for himself. She had two choices. Haul her butt down to the lobby and go meekly off with him.

  Or she could make him wait.

  She slowly finished folding a pair of slacks and loaded her few cosmetics into a small bag. She experienced a current of jubilation as she repacked the last of her clothing. Nothing fancy, jeans, silk undershirts, and sweatshirts. No need taking anything sexy. She wouldn’t need the trappings on this mission.

  Just like St. Louis, New York weather at this time of year could be cruel. She threw in several extra pairs of heavy socks and then zipped the bag.

  Ali looked around, figuring Gun had cooled his heels long enough to be plenty pissed. She put on her long black Cossack coat and the matching hat of curled wool and carried her heavy leather jacket over her arm.

  Ready to go face the man she least wanted to be with, she turned off the lights and stepped into the hall. She locked the door, leaning against it for a moment.

  For the first time in her career, she h
esitated to leave on a mission.

  She mentally shored up her nerve, pulling in any emotions that would betray her broken heart to Gun. She headed for the elevator, taking the long, slow ride on the snail-like conveyance to the lobby.

  Gun didn’t even possess the decency to not be glaring at the elevator when the damned doors parted to let her out. There he stood, gazing at her with dark fury in his eyes.

  He had completely done a flip in his appearance, now wearing a black wool overcoat and navy-blue suit. The white of his shirt collar blazed against his dark skin. Gun could be the too-handsome mafia figure most women orgasmed over. Not her. She saw inside his devious soul.

  Suck it up, Ali. He’s waiting to dine on your heart.

  She carried her bags with no problem, and he didn’t make a move to take them. Instead, he tapped his watch. Ali waited until she’d walked by him to comment.

  “Put that watch where it will be less of a problem for you, Gun.”

  He opened the heavy glass doors and grabbed her suit bag. “You’re in a violent mood.”

  She grabbed her bag away from him. “From now on, you don’t get freebies to comment on my personal life, my job performance, or my religion.” The taxi driver opened the trunk, and she threw her luggage inside on top of what he’d put in earlier.

  Her inner turmoil almost blinded Ali to the world of reality around them. She stared at the cab’s red taillights, seeming mystical and far away in their coating of frost and fresh snow. The white plume of condensation from the exhaust reminded her of a dragon.

  She was ashamed of being so caught up in thinking about Gun and flights of fantasy, especially when she glanced up to find him staring at her as if she had wandered away from a mental facility.

  They climbed inside the warm taxi, and she dropped her handbag between them on the seat. Gun ignored her, telling the driver to get to Lambert as fast as possible. He leaned back and stared out through the crystal-lace pattern on the cab’s window.

  Explaining her pain at that moment wouldn’t be possible. She sat so close to him, she could feel the heat from his body, smell the aftershave that drove her to the limit of restraint. But worst of all, she wanted to hold his hand and feel the weight of his arm across her shoulders.