Double Danger

by Trilby Plants

  He dropped a hand down her back and pulled her against him. “Oh, I bet you can feel where this is going. Are you sure you want this?”

  “Oh, yes,” she whispered. “Ever since the parking lot. You were arrogant and gorgeous. There was something about you ….”

  Slowly, he unbuttoned her flannel shirt. When the last button was undone, he stared at her a long moment before he eased the shirt off one shoulder, then the other. She slipped the T-shirt over her head and dropped it.

  “I saw this before in the motel room,” he said. His voice was soft, husky.

  With one finger, Nick touched the tiny embroidered rose trim on her bra. He reached behind her, unhooked it, and she let it slip from her shoulders. He cupped one breast, working the nipple with his thumb. Alyssa stopped breathing. His touch sent shivers through her body.

  “If you don’t breathe,” he said, “you’ll pass out.”

  She laughed. “Awkward.”

  “Not at all,” he said. “I’d like to hold my breath. Make this moment last forever.”

  “Then we’d both pass out.”

  “Yeah, and that wouldn’t be any fun.” He released her, shrugged out of the shoulder holster and his jacket and dropped them to the tent floor. She grasped the bottom of his T-shirt and pulled it up and over his head. It fluttered into a corner.

  Alyssa’s gaze was drawn to the scar.

  “I’ll tell you about it later,” he said. “Now’s not the time.”

  His mouth found hers. His lips were soft against hers.

  He drew away.

  “Breathe,” he said.

  Alyssa hadn’t realized she was holding her breath again. He inhaled deeply, and she imitated him.

  “Now on to other things,” he said.

  His face was only inches from hers. He reached for the zipper of her jeans and tugged it down, then ran his hands down her hips. His touch was warm, and she responded by leaning toward him.

  “You’ll have to unbutton them,” he said. “I’m afraid I’ll pinch you.”

  He stepped back, his gaze never leaving hers while she unfastened her jeans and pulled them down along with her underwear.

  “Your turn.” Alyssa could not take her eyes away from his. Anticipation heated her skin. She kicked her jeans and panties away.

  He fumbled with the zipper in his jeans.

  “A little tight,” he said. “For a different reason.” Finally, his jeans and boxers were in a corner of the tent. He gazed at her, not moving toward her. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

  “So are you.” God, he was sexy. She touched his chest and ran her fingers along the scar. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  He led her to the sleeping bag and they sank down, facing each other, in a heated embrace. The cadence of Nick’s heartbeat quickened under Alyssa hands. His ragged breaths were loud in the confines of the tent. His need was hard against her belly.

  He caressed her arms, sending shivers through her.

  “You realize,” she said, “I couldn’t hold my breath if I wanted to.”

  “Me neither.” His words were a warm breath against her ear. “Breath holding isn’t good for anything.”

  The muscles of Nick’s arms were well defined, those of a man who ate well and worked out. But his hands were gentle, teasing on her back, gentle on her breasts, her thighs. His lips found hers, lingered in a sweet, long kiss, then left and worked down her throat. He kissed and licked until she thought she might have to hold her breath or die.

  “Fair warning,” he murmured into her neck. “No promises.”

  “I know,” she said, too far gone to care. She wanted him like she had never wanted a man. Passion flamed inside her and spread through her whole body until there was no hope of stopping the fire.

  There was no tomorrow. There was only now.

  “I don’t have protection,” he whispered. “I didn’t plan ‒”

  She touched his arm. “It’s okay. The Pill.” She could not remember if she had taken them the last couple of days. It didn’t matter.

  “You sure?” he said.

  She drew back and gazed at his face.

  “I’m sure.”

  She reached down and held him.

  “God,” he groaned. “I guess you are.”

  He was gentle and hesitant at times, finding the places to touch that gave her pleasure. He stroked and kissed.

  When she thought she could wait no longer, he entered her.

  “Nick,” she said. He stopped moving.

  “No,” she said, “don’t stop.”

  His kiss silenced her. Pleasure rippled in waves where he stroked her. His lips released a flood of sensations. She arched her back up to meet his slow thrusts and gave herself to the moment, riding the crest of desire, taking what he gave and giving to him in return. She wanted the moment never to end, and yet she ached for fulfillment.

  The wave crested. She cried out. Her whole body quivered and she bucked against him. Nick moaned his release. She would not let go, would hold him as long as she could. Bracing his elbows on either side of her, he kissed her tenderly. Staring into his liquid eyes, she reveled in the shared intimacy. His skin against hers. Satisfaction in his eyes.

  This was right. Nick was right for her. All the danger and uncertainty receded until it seemed no more than a dream.

  He drew away from her. “You have to let me go. If you don’t, I’ll fall on you and you really won’t be able to breathe.”

  She released him, and he rolled off beside her. She snuggled against him. He draped one arm over her and gazed at her with a half-smile on his lips and a sated look in his eyes. Rain pattered on the tent. Beside her, Nick watched her, and Alyssa kept the world distant for a while longer.

  Their breathing slowed and steadied. Nick moved away from her and folded one arm beneath his head, looking at her.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” she said softly.

  “They were about you, and thoughts of you are worth all the pennies in the world.”

  “There’s more to you than I imagined, Nick Trammel. You’re a poet, too.” She closed her eyes and spooned against him, taking comfort from his warmth.

  At some point he must have turned the flashlight off, because it was dark in the tent. The darkness enveloped Alyssa, and calmness suffused her. She felt warm and soft and tender and passionate and strong all at the same time. She had waited so long, but it was worth it. Her skin tingled at the memory of Nick’s hands on her skin. A soft glow of peace stole over her, and she slept.

  ***

  Nick sighed. Yes, there was more to him than she knew. The partial truths he had told her tormented him. He wanted desperately to tell her about his wife, but he was afraid she would never understand. She would never trust him, knowing he had withheld information. His arm tightened around her, and he savored the warm curves of her body.

  It was wrong to fall in love with her. He had nothing to offer. She could get hurt or killed. He was responsible for her and couldn’t face the thought of losing her ‒ for any reason. When this was all over, even if they survived, she would have her life and he would go on with his. Alone.

  He pulled the sleeping bag liner up over them and cradled her with his body, trying to memorize everything about her, every contour, breathing her fragrance and luxuriating in the softness of her skin.

  Sleep was a long time coming.

  Chapter 17

  Will Stevens looked up from the drivers’ licenses of Charles B. Evans and James D. Hunter.

  “Washington, DC,” Will said. “Huh. What are you doing out here?”

  Evans and Hunter sat in metal chairs on the opposite side of the interrogation room table, handcuffed to a U-shaped metal cleat bolted to the table. Evans appeared slightly agitated, his breathing rapid. Hunter’s breathing was even, his face expressionless. He didn’t move. Stared at Will with ice-blue eyes. Contacts? His license did not indicate corrective lenses.

>   Behind them Jack Pierson leaned against the wall, one hand on his holstered weapon.

  Evans glanced at Hunter and shrugged.

  “Vacationing,” Hunter said, his expression neutral. He didn’t blink much.

  Will grunted. “Sitting in a dark car outside a motel in the middle of the night?”

  There was a momentary pause before Hunter answered. “We were discussing the merits of checking in.”

  “We were tired,” Evans said. “Drove all day to get here.”

  Will handed the licenses to Jack and said, “Run background on these two.” He turned to Evans and Hunter. “Where’d you drive from?”

  “Flint,” Evans said, and simultaneously Hunter said, “Detroit.”

  Will focused his gaze on Hunter for a long moment. Neither man corrected their responses.

  “Well,” Will said, “which is it? Flint or Detroit?”

  Evans shrugged.

  Hunter cleared his throat. “We came from Detroit to Flint and then here.”

  Will watched Hunter’s face, looking for deception. The man’s gaze remained steady, his face impassive. “Where’d you rent the car?”

  “Detroit,” Hunter said. “At the airport.”

  “I can check that,” Will said.

  Hunter smiled a thin smirk. “I’m sure you will, Sheriff. The paperwork’s in the car.”

  Will pondered his choices a moment. “We’re going to hold you while I check all this out.”

  Hunter’s voice lowered. “Suit yourself. Not much to check. What are the charges again, Sheriff?”

  “I detained you as suspects in a liquor store robbery in St. Ignace,” Will said. “That’s probable cause. Then there’s the matter of a tranquilizer gun in the trash near where you parked. And the knife, Mr. Hunter.” He put a hand on the evidence bag on the table. “Were you in St. Ignace last night?”

  It was a trumped-up charge and a gamble, but might get information.

  Evans frowned. “Where’s St. Ignace?”

  Will ignored him. “So, where were you last night between eight and ten?”

  Evans started, “We ‒”

  “Shut up, Charlie,” Hunter said. “We don’t have to say anything.”

  “You’re under arrest for armed robbery,” Will said. He pulled his Miranda card from his shirt pocket and began reading. “You have the right to remain silent ....” Enunciating each word distinctly, he finished the card and looked first at Evans, then at Hunter. “Do you understand your rights?”

  Evans looked up at the ceiling. Hunter’s eyes focused on Will, opaque and unreadable. He leaned forward “We got it. Attorney.”

  “We’ll work on that, boys.” Will returned the card to his pocket. “Around here, we roll up the sidewalks at nine o’clock.”

  “Hey,” Evans said, “you took our phones. Don’t we get a phone call?” Hunter glared at him, and the man instantly subsided.

  “Nobody to call right now.” Will leaned back in his chair. “You boys stick around as our guests while we call the liquor store owner in St. Ignace. That’ll be morning. Then you’ll get your lawyer.”

  Hunter shot Will an icy glare. “I assure you, Sheriff, it’s a case of mistaken identity.”

  Will smiled. “Time will tell, gentlemen. Meanwhile, make yourselves comfortable.” He pointed to the corner. “You’re on candid camera, so don’t get any ideas. Jack’ll bring you something to drink.” He pointed to a door at the back of the room. “Bathroom through there. No windows. Just so you know.”

  “Two coffees,” Hunter said, his gaze boring into Will. It was a predator’s gaze. A predator assessing its prey.

  Evans was silent.

  What the hell had Nick gotten himself into? Evans seemed rattled. Hunter’s calmness spoke of a military background. Sniper? Sociopath at the least.

  Will removed the handcuffs of both men from the table, leaving their hands cuffed in front. With the men’s wallets he left the interrogation room. Jack followed.

  “Take your time with the drinks,” Will said to Jack. “Let them stew a while.”

  Will locked the deadbolt and went next door where he looked through the one-way glass. Hunter walked to the mirror and ran a hand over his head, squinted and picked his front teeth. He leaned close to the glass and winked. Hunter’s way of showing his contempt of what he obviously considered a small town law enforcement officer.

  Although he had arrested the two men, Will had nothing to charge them with. Tomorrow there would be questions. He could hold them for twenty-four hours. Then he would have to let them go unless he could turn up something. He would keep them until Alyssa and Nick were safely in the hands of the NSA.

  Will hoped Evans and Hunter had underestimated him, that they never suspected he had once been a federal agent. He hoped he still had an edge on people like them.

  He glanced at the clock on the interrogation room wall: 2:15 a.m. If he could stall, Nick and Alyssa would be all right.

  “Hey,” Jack called from the outer office.

  Will left the observation room and went to the front. Jack sat in the dispatcher’s chair.

  “Where’s Connie?” Will said.

  Jack wrinkled his nose. “Throwing up. That stomach crap that’s going around. Or a bad fish fry. Sent her home. Told her I’d cover till Sandi comes in for the day shift.” With an exasperated look, he waved the folder from the rental car. “Can you believe it? The rental car company’s message says to call a wrecker if you’ve broken down. When I finally got to a human, she says they can’t release info unless we get a court order.”

  “And,” Will said, “we can’t get one because I arrested them on a trumped up charge. Damn.” He suspected the rental info was bogus.

  Jack tapped computer keys. “I’m running prints. We’ll see what comes up.”

  “Run them through the military databases, too.”

  Will started down the hall to his office at the back of the building, then looked back. Once again, as he had all evening, he questioned the wisdom of involving Jack. He was retired, old school. A solid guy in his late fifties. No matter how you cut it, his reflexes had to be slower. After Jack had left active service, he worked as a security guard at the paper mill and filled in for Will sometimes as dispatcher. Jack had been a good cop, diligent and by the book. Will had called him on the theory that the fewer people from the regular loop who were involved in this, the better off everyone would be.

  In hindsight, Will should not have arrested the two men. Should have just held them as material witnesses. If this blew up in his face, it could cost him his job. Voters would consider it a scandal, and it would be an issue in next year’s election.

  But Nick and Alyssa were counting on him.

  “You got your vest on?” he said to the older man.

  “You betcha,” Jack said, tapping his chest. “That’s the rule. Under my shirt. Didn’t want to advertise something going down.”

  “Good man, Jack. These two are dangerous. Don’t take even the tiniest chance. Take ‘em coffee now. Leave your weapon out here. And before you go in, make sure they’re away from the door. Set the coffee on the table and leave. I’ll watch through the mirror.”

  Jack’s eyebrows raised. “You know something.”

  “Trust me on this,” Will said.

  Jack unholstered his gun and set it on the desk behind the counter. Will followed him as he carried two Styrofoam cups of hot coffee down the hall. Jack checked the one-way mirror and then came back and opened the door of the interrogation room. He deposited the cups on the table, shut the door and turned the deadbolt.

  He turned to Will. “Okay, Boss?” Will clapped the older man on the shoulder, and Jack returned to his spot at the dispatcher’s post.

  Will went down the hall to his office and eased into his chair. Two thirty in the morning. Hell of a long day, and it was getting longer.

  His phone rang. He punched the speaker button. “Yeah?”

  Jack’s voice: “No wants or warrants
on the names, boss. I’m checking DMV in Washington, DC. Computer’s still working on military databases.”

  “Okay, Jack. Thanks.” Will rose from his seat. The day shift would be in by seven. That would give him time to get organized. There were several agencies he had to call. Nick and Alyssa should be at the cemetery by 9:00 p.m., and the man they were meeting would be there at 10:30. Didn’t give Will much time to get all the law enforcement agencies in place.

  At the front desk Jack was bent over the computer monitor.

  “Hey,” Will said, “it won’t work any faster if you watch it.”

  Jack flashed a sheepish grin.

  Will rubbed the bridge of his nose. The twenty-four hour day had caught up to him. “You think you could manage to keep these two isolated for a few hours?”

  “Yah?”

  “I’m dead on my feet. I’ll be in my office.” The couch was a great napping place.

  “Oh, sure.” Jack turned back to the monitor.

  “And Jack?”

  “Yeah, boss?” Jack didn’t look away from the computer.

  “Call Judge Nordstrom before Sandi comes in –”

  “He’ll be pissed.”

  “He’ll get over it.” Will’s father had been a good friend of Clarence Nordstrom. “Get an order for the rental car info. Run the credit cards in the wallets. And check bank accounts.”

  “Sure, Boss.” He glanced at Will. “Want me to put them in the holding cell?”

  “Nah,” Will said. “Leave them be.” He started back to his office, then turned. “And Jack, watch your back.”

  Will had just settled himself on the couch with a pillow and blanket from the closet when Jack knocked on his door and entered, carrying a few sheets of paper.

  “Sorry to bother you. I got something weird.”

  Will sat up. “Weird how?”

  “Hunter didn’t come up anywhere. That could just mean he never did anything he got fingerprinted for. But Charles B. Evans? Now, that’s odd.” He shook his head, a puzzled expression on his face. “Got a hit on him. Guy died ten years ago in prison. Charles Bradford Stitt, and the prints match.” He handed Will a printout.