“So real,” he said on a thread of breath, sinking to his knees, pulling her down with him.
They lay there on the floor, gasping for breath, their bodies damp and cooling, hearts thundering against each other for a long time. Chloe ran her hand up the muscles taut in his back, unable to hold back her smile as he finally lifted his head.
“What are you thinking?” he murmured.
“Thank God some things never change.”
He let out a low, rough laugh, a glorious sound, then slid down her body, dropping kisses as he went, on her breasts, her belly, and then…“Oh!”
“So you still like that,” he whispered against her. “Let’s see if you still like…” And he brought his fingers and tongue into the action. “Yeah?”
She couldn’t answer, she was far too busy being whipped back into a frothy frenzy. And afterward, when she was still trembling, he rolled, pulling her over the top of him so that she straddled his hips.
Bending over him, she set her hands along his jaw and kissed him deeply. “What now, cowboy?” she purred.
His hands went to her hips. “Well, you could ride me off into the sunset.”
Which she did.
THEY MADE LOVE UNTIL close to dawn, and then finally collapsed into her bed. Snuggled in his arms, Chloe lay there with one of those stupid I’ve-had-amazing-sex grins on her face. She absorbed the warmth of him next to her, and let her fingers drift over his skin, feeling the tough sinew beneath. “You kept in shape.”
“I still play ball. For an old guys’ league.”
“Old guys, huh?” Didn’t feel older, just built. Seriously built. She grazed her lips over his throat. “You still got the moves?”
He let out a soft chuckle against her temple and wrapped his arms around her. “You tell me.”
Oh, yeah, he had the moves, and he spent the next twenty minutes proving it yet again.
They fell asleep in each other’s arms, and for a woman who’d been so fiercely independent for so long, it felt incredibly good.
Ian’s pager went off at dawn, and he got out of bed. Hair tousled, an extremely male, satisfied smile curving his lips, he grabbed a two-minute shower and came out of the bathroom with a pair of knit boxers low on his hips.
She fought the urge to tug them back down.
“Be careful,” she whispered.
“Always.” He leaned over the bed, his hands on either side of her hips and kissed her until her toes curled.
“I wish I’d tossed your pager out the window.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised.
“Take my spare key on the desk in the living room by my laptop-in case I’m at the office.”
He smiled his surprise. “You sure?”
So damn sure. “Yes.”
“’Kay.” And then he kissed her one more time before he left, a kiss that left her body humming.
She sighed dreamily, then tried to go back to sleep. She couldn’t. Instead she got up and headed to the shower, where she leaned back against the tiles as the hot water pummeled her deliciously sated body.
She was still grinning like a fool.
A fool in love.
Finding the energy, she reached for the soap, shoved her hair out of her eyes and-
Stared down the barrel of a gun.
She thought maybe she gasped in terror. She definitely staggered backward, coming up against the tile.
“Hello, Chloe,” Steve said from behind the gun.
9
IAN GOT TO THE OFFICE and took one look at Danny’s tight face. “What?”
“They lost Steve and Al.”
Ian went still. “What? The text message said-”
“Yeah.” Danny was tall, six-five, and as the point guard on Ian’s winter basketball league, that height came in handy. It did not come in handy for pacing the small, tight office, and he banged his head on the hanging light. “Damn it!” He rubbed the spot. “They’ve still got Al in their sites somewhere in Mexico City. But they lost visual of Steve at some point after midnight. Never picked it back up again.”
“And we’re just finding out? Christ, that was-” Ian looked at his cell phone for the time “-eight hours ago. He could be anywhere, he could be going after anyone he thinks will lead us to him. He could be-” He went still, galvanized by a sudden fear. “Here.”
“What?”
“He could be here by now. Shit.” He ran toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Danny asked.
“Chloe’s.”
STEVE LOOKED THE SAME AS always, like he’d raided a techno geek’s closet. He wore a short-sleeved plaid shirt, baggy pants that failed to hide that he looked as if he’d made a few too many visits to Krispy Kreme and white athletic shoes with black dress socks. Still, for being fashion challenged and carrying an extra forty pounds, the guy was quick. He reached into the shower for Chloe, who cringed back, wincing, expecting to be raped, maimed, murdered-
The water shut off.
She cracked an eye. Steve was holding out a towel, which she snatched and wrapped around herself. “What are you doing here?”
“Came for tea and crumpets.” He grabbed her wrist in a tight, unbreakable grip.
She resisted but he simply tugged her out of the shower. “How did you get in?”
“Turns out fencing antiques isn’t my only talent. I can pick a mean lock.”
“W-where are we going?”
“To talk.” He didn’t let go of her until they were in the living room. There, he shoved her to the couch.
Standing over her, hands on his hips, scowl on his face, he looked big and tough and mean, and nothing at all like the quiet, hardworking man who’d brought her his books to reconcile once a month.
“What have you told them?” he demanded.
The towel he’d given her just barely wrapped around her wet body, and she was holding it tightly, hoping everything was covered. “Told who?”
Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed, then, looming over her, he held the barrel of the gun so that it was an inch from her temple. “One more time. What have you told them?”
Oh, God, oh, God. “Um, the police?”
In answer, he pressed the gun to her head.
“Nothing!” she cried, trying to sink back against the couch as far as she could go. “I didn’t-”
“I know you sneaked into our office. I know you found the second set of files.”
“I wasn’t sneaking, I heard a noise, and I went to investigate-
“Liar.” He grabbed her by the nape of her neck and hauled her upright. The gun flickered in front of her eyes, then settled against the side of her head.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t.”
“Here’s the thing. Al’s going down, okay? They have his prints on the bodies.”
Oh, God. There were bodies?
“They can link him to things that they can’t link me to. Only they know he didn’t work alone.” He smiled into her panicked face. “I’m thinking you got greedy, see? You were working the books, both sets of them, and you saw our profits. You decided to come onboard. You demanded it, in fact, or you’d turn us in. The two of you cut me out first, of course, which makes me the victim-”
“No-”
“Oh, yes.” At that, he hauled her across the living room, to her desk, which her laptop sat on. He flipped up the top, opened a Word document, and then shoved her into the chair. “Start typing. To Whom It May Concern.”
She stared up at him in horror.
He waved his gun. “Hel-lo-o-o-o?”
She jumped and put her fingers on the keyboard. To Whom It May Concern…
“The guilt is too much. I’ve betrayed Steve-” He broke off when she didn’t type, and pressed the cold metal of the gun to her temple. “The guilt is too much,” he repeated with a patience that belied the tight grip he had on her.