Her arm was on fire. The skin without Nick’s attention felt cold and bleak, awaiting the returning warmth of his fingertips. Nick undid her blouse, and she shrugged it off impatiently. Rachel lifted up from the lounger as Nick gripped the waistband of her shorts. He pulled them from her smoothly. Moving off his lounger, he settled onto the edge of hers, and began his fingertip message with both hands. Down from her cheeks, over shoulders, breasts, ribcage-ever so slowly-hips, thighs, ankles, feet, toes, and up again. Rachel tried to relax. She tried to absorb his soothing touch, but her breathing quickened, her blood raced, and her body tensed. Nick returned his attention finally to her palms and wrists, tracing gentle circles. She crumpled into the lounger, his fingertips on her palms calming the tingling firestorm.
“You drive me nuts,” she whispered.
“Why’s that? You mean the massage? I figured I’d relax you. Didn’t you like it?” He continued the circular stroking of her palms.
“It’s incredible, but why not just -”
“I haven’t been with a woman I liked in a long time…maybe ever.”
She sat up into his arms, their faces inches apart.
“You mean that?”
“Absolutely.”
Rachel’s lips touched Nick’s as lightly as his fingertips had explored her body. Neither moved to end the exquisite caress or probe more deeply. Her breasts brushed against his bare chest, causing his fingers to encircle and tighten on her wrists. She felt him tense everywhere except at the sensuous contact with her mouth. It was at this very moment Deke decided to make his presence known in the form of a cold wet nose on Rachel’s back. She lurched against Nick with a squeal of protest, arching against him as Deke poked and sniffed.
“Do somethinggggggggg!” Rachel writhed more deeply into Nick.
Nick reached around her with his left hand, grabbing Deke’s nose, and shaking it playfully as Rachel settled down.
“Deke, your timing could be better, pal.” Nick peered around Rachel, eyeballing the dog reproachfully as Deke sat and gave him a paw.
“Tell me you are not shaking that beast’s paw,” Rachel said through clenched teeth, clinging to Nick with her head against his right shoulder. He realized she could feel the movement of his arm at her side.
“You told me I can’t hurt him.”
She huffed. “I changed my mind.”
“Perhaps we should go up to my room and start over.”
“No, I’m not in the mood.”
“Okay,” Nick sighed, pushing up and away from Rachel. “I was going to do your back next.”
She sprung up from the lounge chair and into his arms. “What‘ll we do with the hellhound?”
“Give him a beer,” Nick whispered, trailing kisses along her neck, evoking a protesting shudder and moan. “Deke can drink it in Jean’s room.”
“You have to call Grace back,” Rachel reminded him reluctantly, at the same time moving side to side gently.
“Shit!” He thumped his forehead on her shoulder.
“I’ll go get Deke settled in Jean’s room. You call Grace. I’ll meet you in your room.”
“You better not be asleep when I get there.”
“Yeah, right.” She laughed. “C’mon Deke, let’s get you locked up for the night.”
Nick picked up his satellite phone and called Grace. She answered on the first ring, and he noticed the light was green.
“Hey, no trace-you are so helpful.”
“The shit hit the fan, Nick, just as I suppose you imagined it would. I was to contact the Attorney General only if you called. I did and he brought in the Homeland Security Chief. Apparently, our two wayward justice department members corroborated the existence of Rachel’s magic flash drives. They want them so badly they may overlook your transgressions.”
“How much about my transgressions do you know?” Nick asked warily, repressing memories of missions over the last decade as they flitted through his mind.
“Let me put it this way, Nick.” Grace’s lilting tone immediately irritated him. “I know writing best sellers is a hell of a cover gig. It seems CIA and NSA pooled their resources after the Khobar Towers bombing in 1996 into funding this neat clandestine group. Only the word leaked. It was shut down before it actually went into operation. At least that’s what congressional oversight thought. How am I doing so far, Obi-Wan?”
“Oh, those transgressions.”
“Want to fill in the blanks for your friends at the US Marshall’s office, Nicky?”
“Never going to happen,” he retorted, his mind racing. “We’ll deal with me later. Not that I’m complaining, but how did a couple of lowly US Marshalls end up on top in this mess?”
“It seems because we were the only ones working to keep Rachel and Jean alive, the Attorney General decided that, with all the suspicious happenings and leaks, Tim and I would be the logical oversight for the people who almost got us killed.”
“Please tell me you don’t have a task force.”
“Nope,” Grace chuckled. “Tim and I know better than to speak about this crap to anyone. We have access way beyond our pay grades and can call in help from anywhere we need it. We answer only to the Attorney General.”
“Here’s the deal then. There may be a dust-up where the safety deposit box is.”
“Meaning the bad guys know where the box is. You and Rachel know where the box is. The authorities, in the form of Tim and I, know nothing.”
“You have a talent for summarization, Grace.”
“I can round up enough people I trust to escort you and Rachel into the bank to get the drives, Nick,” Grace replied, anger creeping into her voice.
“But then you’ll have our hole card. Think about it logically, Grace. What happens when we hand over the drives without leverage? I can make copies. You won’t be allowed to. If you get leaned on too hard, those drives can keep you and Tim in business. I’ll be like the Oracle. When you have questions about the way our justice system is progressing on the case, I can fill in details for you about what they may be covering up.”
“And if we don’t take the deal?”
“I’ll find a way to get those flash drives. Then it will be a hot time in the old town tonight, baby.”
“We’re in,” Grace agreed. “It’s getting late. You’ve worn me out. When can you get those drives?”
“You’ll know when I have them in my hands or close to it.”
“I’ll bet you’re writing this all into a Diego best seller, aren’t you, you prick?”
“I may be able to dish this heroic episode of reality into a treasure chest’s worth of fiction.”
“I’m thinking Tim and I need to go down to Pacific Grove. I’ll talk to some of your friends down there. We might need a hole card against you, big shot.”
“Listen closely, Grace.” Nick’s voice became nearly unrecognizable in its sheer menace. “It would be very dangerous for you or Tim to approach anyone I know. Are we clear?”
“Sure Nick, sorry.”
“You will be, if you ever forget what I just said.” He ended the call. Only the thought of Rachel in his bedroom enabled him to set the satellite phone down without smashing it into the cement.
“How’d it go?” Rachel asked, as the bedroom door swung open, and she propped herself up on the bedcover.
“It’s a work in progress.” His mind went blank at the sight of her in a sheer black-silk teddy.
She turned onto her stomach, looking up at him over her shoulder. “I bought this while Jean and I were out shopping. Still want to do my back?”
“Come on, Mom,” Nick whispered, guiding a very groggy Rachel toward her own bedroom. “You know you’d blame it on me if Jean wakes up and checks your room.”