Packing Heat

by Penny McCall

  “I was trying to get your mind off the phone call.”

  She pushed away from the wall and crossed the room, stopping in front of him. “There are better distractions.”

  This time she didn’t kiss him. And just in case he didn’t get her meaning, she lifted his hand and sucked his thumb into her mouth, lapping her tongue across his skin and giving it a little nip before she slid her mouth away. She kept her eyes on his the entire time.

  “Tell me to stop,” she said.

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “We both know this is a mistake. If we do this, it’s going to complicate everything.”

  “Yep.” And he could see the war raging in her. She was right about sex complicating everything, but wild horses, driven expertly by Roman charioteers, couldn’t have dragged him away from her again. He framed her face, threading his fingers back into the wealth of her blond hair, and kissed her. He felt her surrender, knew the second when she abandoned the high moral ground, ceding what was smart for what she wanted. And what she wanted, thank god, was him.

  Her body went soft against his, burning him up in all the places they were touching, moving restlessly as he dropped his mouth to her neck, down the vee of her top to tease along the inner curves of her breasts. Her head dropped back. She moaned softly, and the breathless, pleading sound slammed through him, shooting heat and need to his groin until he was so painfully hard it was all he could do not to throw her down and take.

  It helped that she gave, or rather demanded, saying, “Now,” as she stepped back and flipped the button at the back of her halter. She did a little shimmy with her shoulders, and as the dress whispered down her body, she slid her fingers beneath the top of her bikini panties and slid them off with a wriggle of her hips.

  Cole had his shirt off before her clothing hit the floor. He shucked his pants, too, then retrieved them, grabbing something out of his back pocket before he dropped them again.

  Harmony looked at the condom in his hand, one eyebrow inching up.

  “I believe in always being prepared,” he said.

  “I don’t think the Boy Scouts have a badge for this.”

  “There’s one too many badges around here already.”

  For a minute he thought he’d said the wrong thing, and then she was in his arms and they were on the bed, her mouth on his, her hands rushing over his skin.

  She tried to push him onto his back. He wouldn’t go. She got to be in charge everywhere else, he’d be damned if he let her tell him what to do in bed.

  He rose over her, his mouth on her breast, working a hard nipple between tongue and teeth. She arched up, every tug drawing a shudder or moan from her, and when he slipped his hand between her thighs, slipped two fingers inside her, she came, hands fisted in the bedclothes, her body convulsing around his fingers, once twice, as she sighed his name. He fumbled on the condom, lifted her knees, slid his hands under her backside, and entered her before the last echo of her orgasm, feeling the fading ripple of it as she sheathed him in heat.

  Her eyes opened and met his, still dazed with pleasure, her mouth curving up as she ran her palms up her belly, over her breasts, keeping her eyes on his as she began to move, meeting him stroke for stroke. There was only her, the hunger and frustration of the last eight years and the previous three days building and building, all but blinding him so he could only feel, the heat and friction of her body around his, her hands skimming along his skin, the way her body was tightening around his.

  Her breath rushed out on the little moan that seemed to be a trigger for him. He lifted her higher, drove into her one last time, locking himself there as her body pulsed and shuddered, and his skin felt so tight he was afraid he’d explode. And then he did, the dam inside him burst, all the pressure and heat and pleasure from a million nerve endings rushing down from his head and up from his toes, focusing into the climax, making it so intense he felt incandescent with it, years of darkness turned to light. He held onto it as long as he could, held onto her, until all his strength was drained away and he collapsed next to her and just concentrated on breathing for a few minutes.

  The bed shook, and he cracked open an eye to find Harmony leaning up on one elbow next to him, still a little out of breath, her skin sheened with sweat and her mouth curved up in pleasure.

  In a lifetime of fantasies he could never have imagined this moment. Or her.

  “That did the job,” she said, and he knew the moment was over. Her mind was back on the case, and the phone call.

  “I feel so used,” he said with sarcasm he didn’t come close to feeling because that was the problem he’d had before, he realized. It wasn’t about her making the first move; it was her motivation that bothered him. He didn’t make an effort to figure out why. Why was dangerous territory for a man whose future was so uncertain.

  “I think we used each other,” she said. “It was inevitable that we’d get horizontal together at some point, given our mutual attraction. And I wasn’t the one with the condom,” she pointed out.

  “Juan asked me if I needed anything,” Cole said with a shrug.

  “And that was your first thought?”

  “I was in jail for eight years. My first thought is always about sex.”

  “Now who’s feeling used?” She started to get up.

  Cole put his hand on her stomach and she stopped, meeting his eyes. “It doesn’t have to get in the way,” he said.

  “It won’t.”

  WAKING UP IN COLE’S ARMS THE NEXT MORNING WAS an entirely different experience than it had been the first time. He was wrapped around her, just like yesterday, and she wanted him with every throbbing nerve ending, just like yesterday, but this time she didn’t shove him away. There was too much mental activity for her physical urges to overpower.

  She didn’t bother listing all the reasons why having sex with Cole was wrong. That ship had sailed. How it would affect the case, that was the real question. And the answer was it wouldn’t. To Cole she was only a way to make up for the years of forced celibacy. To her he was a way to free Richard without giving away the farm. And if sleeping with him felt like it might be about more than sex, she’d keep that to herself.

  Besides, he was hiding something from her.

  She slipped out of his arms, out of the bed, pulling on her T-shirt and panties. She had to have the distance even if it left her feeling cold and alone again. She’d needed his comfort last night, but she couldn’t allow it to become a habit to turn to him when her own strength wasn’t enough.

  “Setting boundaries?” Cole said from the bed, his voice rough with sleep and even more tempting. “For my benefit or yours?”

  Now she looked over her shoulder at him, smiling slightly. “I thought my job description was the only boundary you needed.”

  He shrugged. “As long as you don’t start thinking about fairy tales, we’ll both be fine.”

  “I’m FBI and you’re . . . you. Not exactly Cinderella, Prince Charming, and happy endings.”

  “You don’t think I’m Prince Charming?” Cole slapped a hand over his heart. “I’m wounded.”

  “Just as long as you can type.”

  “I think I can manage it.” He headed for the bathroom, turning back halfway there. “I, uh, could use somebody to wash my back.”

  “I thought you liked showering alone.”

  “I like showering alone when my choice is showering with a hundred other guys.”

  “Well, just consider me one of the guys.”

  He gave her a leisurely once-over, his smile coming slow and wide as he did. “Too late for that.”

  Too late was right. Almost. If he kept looking at her with that combination of heat and appreciation, she’d shuck her determination and her clothes, and join him in the shower. He didn’t press her, though, and once he disappeared into the bathroom, it was a lot easier to stick to her guns. Sure, hearing the water run, thinking of all that naked, muscular flesh under the hot spray, remembering what he fel
t like against her, in her, was almost more than she could resist.

  Once he walked away, though, it was a lot harder for her to make the first move. True, she’d done just that last night, but she didn’t have an excuse this time. If she went into that bathroom she wouldn’t be looking for simple human comfort or a distraction from the horror of Richard’s torture. She’d be going in there because she wanted Cole, and Prince Charming notwithstanding, there’d be more to it than just satisfying a physical need. And he’d know it. That was what really held her back.

  He came out, shirtless, his jeans unzipped and unbuttoned. She barely spared him a glance, ducking into the bathroom and showering in record time, leaving her hair wet and sleek. It wasn’t much as disguises went, but if someone was looking for a blonde with shoulder-length curls she wouldn’t immediately come to mind.

  She put on clean underwear, a pair of jeans, and a soft cotton sweater she’d bought for herself the day before, and slipped out of the bathroom. Cole was already at the computer, lost in his own little world, and since it was almost noon, Harmony left him there and walked to the nearest fast-food restaurant. She brought back two salads and two iced teas, unsweetened.

  “You consider that a meal?” Cole said when she handed him his half of lunch. “I’m working hard here. Not to mention last night. I need to keep up my energy.”

  “I did just as much of the work as you did last night.”

  Cole grinned, acknowledging the truth of it with a slight waggle of his head.

  “You’re sitting on your butt in front of a computer,” Harmony pointed out. “If you keep eating like you have been, you’re going to start looking like your mug shot again—which is probably appropriate since you’re breaking the law.”

  He dug into his salad, made a face. “I never broke the law before I went to jail.”

  “Except for that one time.”

  His head lifted, his eyes going hot on hers. “I didn’t know I was breaking it.”

  “Right, you were pudgy and naïve.”

  Cole went silent, not all that unusual for him, except this time there was a dimension to the silence that made her replay her comment and regret making it. Cole wasn’t the kind of person who did what he’d done, at least not for money. He didn’t have a devious bone in his body. What he did have was a moral streak a mile long. “I’m sorry,” she said. “What really happened?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Which, along with the fact that he’d shoved the salad away and gone back to work, was code for leave me alone. She did, but she knew it was important to him. And she knew it was connected to the FBI. He was usually a pretty even-keeled man, but every time he tried to break into the Bureau’s system he became angry and frustrated.

  It didn’t take him long to prove her point. Less than ten minutes later he lurched to his feet, shoved both hands back through his hair, and paced across the room, stewing.

  Harmony looked at the screen but it was all a bunch of Matrix-type gobbledygook, and Keanu Reeves wasn’t handy to interpret for her. “What’s the problem?” she asked Cole.

  He held up a hand and kept pacing. She could almost see him thinking, his brain working at warp speed before the proverbial lightbulb popped on over his head. He raced back to the table and plopped down, almost missing the chair but not bothering to adjust his seat as his fingers flew over the keyboard. His eyes were glued to the screen, intense, the reflected glow making him look fanatical—and a little scary when his mouth curved into a Grinch-comtemplating-Whoville grin.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, putting her hand on his shoulder when her voice wasn’t enough to get his attention.

  He punched the ENTER key and sat back. “I’m going after your money,” he said.

  “Should I pack?”

  “Nope. Your IT friends at the Bureau won’t be expecting me to hit the banking system. And, anyway, I made sure they’ll be too busy to notice I slipped in and diverted four million dollars.”

  Her heart jumped, partly because she’d just taken an irrevocable step, partly because it was a step closer to saving Richard. And then reality crashed her party. One minute he was seething, the next he was so elated she could feel the excitement coming off him in waves. Either he was manic or . . . “Wait a minute, what did you do?”

  “I infected them with a little virus,” he said in a singsong, take that tone of voice.

  Harmony ripped his hands off the keyboard, knowing it was already too late. “Jesus, Cole,” she breathed, “how . . . what . . .”

  “Relax, all I did was scramble some of their files for a little while.” He shook her off and picked up his tea, taking a long pull from the straw. He was trying to look like he didn’t care, but the Grinch was gone, and in its place was a sulky little boy who’d played a trick and wasn’t getting the appreciation he’d expected. “I put some dancing cartoon characters on their screens.”

  “Cartoon characters,” Harmony echoed faintly, sitting down hard on the other chair and trying to wrap her brain around it. Dancing cartoons or not, she was responsible for putting the FBI out of commission for god knew how long. Thanks to the lunatic she’d unleashed on them.

  “Cinderella and Prince Charming,” the lunatic said, still not getting it. “I thought you’d appreciate my choice.” When she didn’t respond, Cole snapped his finger in front of her face. “Hello. It’s supposed to be funny.”

  “Funny? You think the FBI is going to find this funny just because it’s cartoon characters and not something obviously destructive? You’re insane. Or you have a death wish.”

  “Did you miss the part about the four million dollars?”

  “No.” She took a deep breath, and thought, okay, so it hadn’t exactly happened the way she wanted. There was four million dollars in the kidnappers’ account. Now all they had to do was deal with the fallout of Cole’s virus.

  She got to her feet and started throwing her things in the duffel.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We have to get out of here.”

  He shook his head, looking smug. “It’ll take them a few hours to get the system back up, and even then they won’t be able to track the source.”

  She put both hands flat on the tabletop and just concentrated on breathing for a minute. “You’re sure?”

  “Like I said, they won’t be expecting a hit on the frozen bank accounts, and even if they do, it’ll look like the money is still there because they’ll have to reload their last system dump, which was probably midnight.”

  “It’s not like they don’t monitor those accounts. They’ll figure it out before long.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Even when they realize the money is gone, they won’t be able to track me. I bounced the signal all over the known universe. It’ll take them days to find this motel, and we’ll be long gone by then.”

  Harmony resumed her packing. “I still think we should go.”

  Cole looked like she’d just kicked his favorite dog.

  “It’s not that I don’t trust your abilities. I broke you out of jail for exactly this reason, remember? It’s just that we’ve been here for two days, and I guess I’m feeling like we need to move on. Just to be safe.”

  “Okay,” he said, looking somewhat mollified. “I’m with you. As long as we stop somewhere for real food.”

  chapter 15

  SINCE IT WAS GETTING ON TOWARD MIDNIGHT AND they were in farmland, where towns rolled up their sidewalks at nightfall, real food turned out to be a bar off I-44, a good fifty miles out of St. Louis, headed southwest toward Springfield, Missouri. It was a typical small-town watering hole. Lots of dark paneling, a bar that ran the length of the place, fronted by stools, and a scattering of small tables along the opposite wall. The bartender was clearly the owner. He knew everyone in there, and Harmony and Cole stuck out like Twinkies at a fat farm. But after a curious once-over by the locals, they were left alone.

  Harmony had called the head Russian and reported four millio
n dollars’ worth of progress. The head Russian had checked the account and been quietly pleased. He hadn’t said as much, but there’d been no screaming or sobbing or threats of lopping off body parts, and he’d given her two days to show more progress.

  She’d show him progress, all right. If sheer determination was any guarantee, Richard would be free in two days—hopefully before she went broke from feeding Cole.

  “I’ll have a beer, whatever’s on tap,” he said when the waitress appeared at their table, “and two cheeseburgers. How about you?” he asked Harmony before the waitress could jump to conclusions and walk away.

  “Not the heart attack special.” She plucked the small, plastic-coated menu out from behind the salt and pepper shakers. Her choices were severely limited, and they all included beef and buns. Cheese was optional, and why not, she figured? “Cheeseburger and a Diet Coke.”

  The waitress took herself off having written nothing down and spoken not a word. But she’d taken a really good look at Cole. She appeared immediately with their drinks, and less than five minutes later with their food in paper-lined plastic baskets. Cole attacked his meal with the same kind of focus he approached the computer. Harmony didn’t attempt to side-track him with conversation.

  They were at the bar paying their tab when a Special Alert came on the television over the bar. Since it preempted football, the place erupted in catcalls and boos.

  And then Cole’s eight-year-old mug shot flashed across the screen and the ruckus cut off like somebody had clapped duct tape over everyone’s mouth simultaneously. All eyes were glued to the TV, some of them narrowed in a puzzled attempt to place that face, as the voice-over talked about Cole. Terrorist was the first thing they called him. After that it was hard to hear much. She caught the terms armed and dangerous and escaped felon over the din of voices, but she was probably the only one who heard the part about Cole hacking into the FBI’s computer system—allegedly—and setting loose a virus.

  Then she saw her own face, taken straight from her FBI identification badge. Nobody had trouble recognizing her. The word reward was just the catalyst that got them moving.