by Lori Foster
“Just making sure, since we’re getting pretty far off the beaten path.” He leaned forward to check the address on a crooked mailbox they passed. “What kind of driver would I be if I didn’t keep checking?”
She sighed. Now he sounded insulted, maybe even hurt, and that bothered her. He’d been so open, chatting easily about his life. Was it fair for her to deny him everything?
Decision made, she admitted, “My apartment is about a half an hour away from Therman. It seemed like a good idea to be near to him since he often hires drivers within the area.”
“Makes sense. Being near to him means being near the drivers.”
“Usually.” With Brodie, she had to concede, “You’re farther out than most.” The problem wasn’t so much the distance, but that much of the driving was rural, in and around the small town. That added time spent in her car, but it wasn’t a big deal.
“Your address?”
She saw no reason not to tell him. It’d still be up to her whether they met at the office or at her apartment. She recited the street address, and since he couldn’t write it down, she figured he might not even remember.
He nodded with satisfaction, saying, “Thanks.”
Mary had the odd feeling that he’d just committed it to memory.
The houses eventually disappeared and the gravel road became bumpier with puddle-filled holes. Weeds and scrub bushes grew along the sides, nearly hiding a ditch.
She checked the directions, but Brodie hadn’t erred.
“This is getting weird,” he said.
Mary agreed.
A few minutes later they reached the designated address, not on a mailbox but rather on a wooden marker. Buried in a heavily wooded lot with no discernible driveway was a cabin. Beyond that, she could barely make out the shoreline of a large lake.
With the car still idling, Brodie stared toward the rustic little shack and scowled. “I don’t like it, Red.”
No, she didn’t, either.
“I’m not buying that anyone lives here.”
No reason he should. “Therman mentioned that we’d be meeting at a neutral location, I just didn’t expect...” This. She definitely hadn’t expected this.
The thick cluster of trees combined with the cloudy sky cast the area with ominous shadows.
Brodie turned an incredulous look on her. “Who the hell meets in the woods?”
Pretending nonchalance, she shrugged. “Some sellers don’t want their locations known.”
“Thieves, you mean. People who are selling stolen goods.”
He could be right, but she said only, “I seriously doubt that’s the case, but it’s Therman’s business, not mine and not yours.”
Brodie had gotten into the habit of standing beside the car with Howler, keeping watch as she did the exchanges. He was always near enough to intercede if necessary, but not since that first day had he imposed by coming closer.
There’d been no reason.
Today felt different. The entire scene sent a warning screaming along her nerve endings. Seeing the cautious way Brodie surveyed the area, she knew his instincts were sparking as well.
Mary had to remind herself that this was her job, that she’d handled other seemingly treacherous exchanges with no issue at all. Past experience, combined with current weather conditions, made up her mind: there was really no reason for them all to get soaked.
Shoring up her determination, she turned to Brodie. Over the seat, the dog watched her, ears perked up, expression vigilant.
“I won’t be long.” She idly patted the dog’s neck to reassure him, but the muscles straining there told her she failed. “Why don’t you and Howler just watch from the car? No reason for all of us to get muddy.” She waited to see how he’d react to that.
Brodie gave her a long, telling look and without a word he turned off the car, opened the door and stepped out.
Impossibly stubborn! But...a small part of her was relieved. Since she had a bad feeling about things, it’d be nice to know Brodie was close.
Getting out, too, Mary immediately opened her umbrella. “Suit yourself,” she said over the sound of low rumbling thunder.
“Plan to,” he replied. Howler jumped out and immediately splashed into a puddle.
Shaking her head, she gave a last cautious look at that decrepit little building and started forward.
To his credit, Brodie stayed back a discreet distance while Howler lifted a long gangly leg near a tree.
Mary picked her way forward, twice getting her umbrella snagged on limbs, once catching the toe of her sandal in a tangled root. Though she pitched forward, she managed to stay upright.
Aware of Brodie’s gaze boring into her back, she straightened her shirt and continued on.
Right before she reached the door she heard a motor start. It seemed to come from the lake, probably a boat motor, and just knowing others were near helped to settle her worry. Standing to the side of the entryway, away from a thatch of prickly weeds, she knocked on the rough-hewn door and waited.
With an eerie screech of rusted hinges, it opened.
A short, heavy man, his eyes nearly hidden beneath a hat pulled low, looked her over and then searched behind her. “You got the money?”
Dark patchy whiskers covered his loose jowls, double chin and thick upper lip. He appeared oily, as if he hadn’t bathed recently—but then, wearing a hat plus a long-sleeved dark shirt with jeans on such a hot, humid day could explain the sheen of perspiration layered on his exposed skin.
Despite his lack of courtesy, Mary spoke with an air of cool command. “Yes, of course. Do you have the item?”
“Money first.”
Wearing the strap of her briefcase over her shoulder, Mary laced her fingers together and rested them over her stomach. “I’m afraid not.”
He looked beyond her again, and she wondered if he saw Brodie and Howler. Neither man nor beast made a sound, but of course they were near.
If not, she’d have felt even more vulnerable.
Grumbling under his breath, the man stepped back and snagged a plastic bag from behind the door. “Got it right here.”
A garbage bag, crudely held, did not ensure a fair exchange. “I need to see that it’s authentic.”
His jaw worked in defiance, but she held his gaze without flinching and finally he handed it over.
“Thank you.” Juggling her umbrella and briefcase, she opened the heavy bag and found a boot box, which she withdrew. She peeked inside and saw glints of gold beneath a few papers.
“If you wouldn’t mind?” She attempted to hand him her umbrella, and when he acted put out by her request, she explained, “If the documentation gets wet, it could be impossible to read, and we might not have a deal.”
Eyes narrowed, he jerked the umbrella from her hand and stuck it into the air over her head. The movement brought him nearer, allowing Mary to see beyond him, where she noticed that a back door stood open.
Those warning bells blared a little louder.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw only thick trees, swaying with the furious weather.
Brodie wouldn’t be far away—unless this was an ambush and someone had already gotten to him?
Her heart shot into her throat with that thought. Dear God, what if she’d led him into—
Suddenly the man tossed aside the umbrella. Startled, she saw the wind carry it away while a deluge of rain immediately soaked her.
“What—” she started, but his hard hands grabbed at her, throwing her off balance as he wrestled away the boot box while also yanking at her briefcase strap.
Instinctively, she tried to hold on but, with a gasp, she lost her footing and flailed, her feet sliding out from under her on the slick ground. Arms out to catch herself, she landed with a hard splash. Something sharp dug into her hip and her right fo
rearm connected with a very prickly weed.
Shock kept her immobile for a heartbeat. She got her wits together just in time to see the man fleeing out the back door.
He had everything!
Mary scrambled upright and into the cabin. Not to give chase, really, but again, she seemed to be on autopilot, just doing without thinking it through.
The man was already away from the cabin, running hell-bent through the storm toward the lakeshore where a small boat waited.
The motor she’d heard.
Suddenly Howler was there, nearly airborne as he launched at the man, teeth bared and back bristling. Mary covered her mouth, watching in horror as Howler brought him down.
Screaming, the man released both her briefcase and the package as he tried to free himself. He swung at the dog, kicked and thrashed.
Howler didn’t let go.
And then Brodie was there, silently fierce as he tossed aside her case, putting it out of the reach of the struggle. He grabbed the man by the front of his shirt and half hauled him to his feet.
The dog had just released the man, apparently confident that Brodie had it under control, when a gun blast echoed over the lake and mud sprayed up right before them. Howler yelped and jumped back, only to plunge forward again in renewed rage.
Mary spotted the second man standing in the boat, a gun held at the end of his straightened arm.
Her heart leaped into her throat. “Gun!” She stepped out into the rain, waving her arms to get Brodie’s attention. “He has a gun!” She wasn’t sure if anyone heard her over the ferocity of the storm and Howler’s savage barking, but then Brodie scowled in her direction.
“Get inside, damn it!” He managed to hold on to the man until another blast echoed over the lake.
Brodie dove to cover Howler, holding on to him so he couldn’t attack again.
Mary wasn’t sure where the bullet went, but the man reached for the bag.
Brodie lunged over Howler, getting hold of it first, then caught Howler with his other hand when the dog would have attacked again. For a single moment, he was sprawled out, both hands full as Howler dragged him a foot. Yet another shot sounded, and Brodie quickly shifted, wrapping himself around the dog, shielding him with his own body.
He didn’t let go of the bag.
Good Lord, did he really think she cared about that right now?
She was about to order him to leave it when the man half scrambled, half slid the rest of the way to the shore, high-stepped into the water and dove headfirst into the bow of the small fishing boat. The guy with the gun adjusted the motor until the boat turned away. Just as easily, they disappeared into the storm.
For a second, Mary felt glued to the spot, dizzy with adrenaline, her lungs burning, her hands pressed to her mouth.
Hysteria threatened, but she fought it back and tried to get her bearings. “Brodie?”
The howling wind stole her whisper. She swallowed and tried again, saying louder, “Brodie!”
Howler struggled to be free, yet Brodie stayed locked around him, still, so very still...
Mary ran. She tripped and fell twice, once getting a mouthful of mud and fallen pine needles, but she didn’t care.
Just as she reached him, Brodie rolled to his back. Blood showed on his forehead, running into his left eye.
“Oh my God.” She dropped to her knees, uncaring of the sodden ground beneath her or the rain that plastered her clothes to her body. Howler snuffled against Brodie.
“Fuck.”
Well. At least he didn’t sound faint.
She shoved back her fallen hair, trying to see better through the rain. “Where are you hurt?” Hands shaking, she touched his face, over his nose, his cheekbone to his ear and up to his temple, searching for the source of the blood. Rain spiked his thick lashes and made the blood and mud trickle together.
“Fuck,” he said again, this time with disgust but less heat as he shrugged her away. “I’m fine, Red. Quit fussing.”
“You’re bleeding,” she said, feeling awfully close to tears.
“I hit my head when I covered Howler. It’s nothing.” He laughed—actually laughed—when he realized the big dog was trying to get on top of him. “Hey,” he said in a gentle voice, “I’m all right, buddy, I promise.”
Mary sat back while he took time to reassure the dog. He gathered Howler close and stroked him, even hugged him a little.
She didn’t mean to, but the sob welled up and there was no containing it.
Mortification scalded her with the realization that she was jealous of a sweet animal. Shooting to her feet, she tried to make a hasty escape, but Brodie snatched her hand and he wouldn’t let go, no matter how desperately she tried to tug free.
“Mary.” Keeping her hand trapped in his, he stood up behind her.
“We’re in the rain!” And that wasn’t the point at all, but she didn’t care.
“I noticed. Not like we’re going to get any wetter.” He let her go, but only to wrap both arms around her in a hug that pulled her back to his chest. Near her ear, he said, “I’m always a dick when I’m frustrated.” The teasing words were a direct contrast to his comforting hold. “It’s just reaction, and reaction is okay.”
She stiffened, both at his gentleness and her own reactions. Wanting to lean on him, but afraid to give in to such an alien sensation, she settled on anger instead. “It’s okay for you to be a dick?”
“Temporarily, yeah.” Then with added meaning, he said, “Just as it’s okay for you to get upset and cry a little.”
“I’m not!” Crying was the most useless thing in the world.
“Everyone deals in their own way.”
Now he wanted to reassure her?
She dashed her hands over her cheeks and nodded. It seemed the expedient thing to do. “We need to get out of this weather.”
He kissed her ear. “Don’t move.” He gathered up the bag and her briefcase, then caught her hand again and called to Howler, who followed. Brodie’s urgent pace kept her slipping, but he didn’t let her fall again.
At his car, she balked. “I’m layered in mud.”
“We all are, but we seriously can’t stay here. If the bastards come back, maybe with reinforcements, I want to be long gone.”
Very true. Nodding, she got in, arms folded around herself in a sudden chill, while he stuffed the bag and briefcase on the floor near her feet.
He didn’t strap Howler in, choosing haste over safety, and before long they were driving back onto the main road. No one spoke. Even the dog stayed silent.
Twenty minutes more and he pulled into a gas station near a busier drag. With the car idling, he sat there, hands clasped on the wheel, muscles in his jaw knotting.
Mary knew she was a hideous mess, her hair more down than up, her makeup smudged with mud, her clothes ruined. She couldn’t find a reason to care.
He could have died.
She closed her eyes and gulped air.
She heard the seats squeak and suddenly his mouth was on hers, warm and firm.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss this time. He didn’t test her response and ease into things.
No, he opened his mouth over hers, moving, taking...and giving.
How such a thing could happen, she didn’t know, but she clutched at the wet material of his shirt, fear and adrenaline coalescing into red-hot, unfamiliar need.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT SURPRISED BRODIE when her mouth opened under the urging of his, when her tongue teased across his lips. He angled his head, accepting her participation with a sweep of his own tongue. Jesus, she tasted good, felt right.
Mary.
He tunneled the fingers of his left hand into the wet ropes of her hair, holding her close, tipping her head one way while he went the other so that their mouths fused perfectly for the kiss
to go wild.
She was with him every step, just as hungry, just as lost to the moment.
“Mary,” he murmured, putting his open mouth to her throat, sucking, biting a little on his way to her shoulder. Her skin was soft and sleek. He wanted to eat up every part of her.
He heard her gasping and lowered his hand to her breast.
Oh, fucking-A.
She was every bit as full and heavy as he’d known she’d be, her nipple already pointed tight, her wet shirt and bra clinging to every curve. He flicked with his thumb and she arched into him.
If it wasn’t for her shivering, he couldn’t say what he might have done. But she did shiver, either in excitement or from their ordeal, he couldn’t know, but it brought reality crashing back down on him.
They were in the parking lot of a gas station and she’d just been attacked. What the hell was he thinking?
Breathing hard, he eased his hand away.
Her eyes opened, the surrounding smudged mascara making the blue impossibly brighter. Color rose high in her face and her slender fingers kneaded his chest.
“Brodie?” she whispered.
“Shh.” He covered her hand with his own and lightly kissed her bottom lip, now wet and swollen, then the corner of her sweet mouth. She drew a shuddering breath, and that, just that, was damn near enough to make him lose his head again. “Any other time, Red, and I’d be so ready...”
Hell, he was ready now. Insane, but his cock had stirred the second she’d accepted his kiss and now he was full-blown hard and aching.
“Your head,” she whispered, almost like she’d just awakened. Then stronger, “Damn it, your poor head.”
“It’s on my shoulders,” he teased, but yeah, now that she’d mentioned it, he felt the pain.
Mary dug several tissues from her purse and knelt on the seat to dab at it. “It’s stopped bleeding, but you have a cut.”
The position put her boobs right there by his face and that was one temptation he didn’t need, not while he was trying to do the right thing.
“I think I hit a rock when I dove to cover Howler.”
At the mention of his name, the dog whined.