Army of Two (9 page)

Dodson laughed. “So that’s why you didn’t complain about checking this place again.”

“Those stairs are a bitch. Gotta have a rest before we start back up.”

“Give me one of those, will you?”

Chantal didn’t have a hope of calming her pulse. It was racing out of control. Instead she concentrated on breathing as silently as possible. It seemed the men had decided to take a smoke break. Here. Beside the very canoe she and Mitch were concealed beneath.

Mitch rested his cheek on the back of her head. Even through the layers of clothing that separated them, she could feel the increasing tension in his body. He was trying to keep most of his weight on his knees and elbows, but he was a large man. She was conscious of every inch of him. His chest pressed into her back with each breath he drew. That, and the cigarette smoke, made it hard for her to get enough air. She angled her face toward a gap in the floorboards, hoping for a fresh draft. She got a lungful of musty air tainted with diesel fumes instead.

“What are you going to do with your share of the take, Dodson? Get yourself another tattoo?”

He snorted. “I’m going to Vegas.”

“Can’t wait to lose it all again, huh?”

“No way. I’ve got a system. All I need is a stake.” He shifted. The canoe creaked more loudly. “What you going to do with yours?”

“Figured I’d go down to South America. I heard they’ve got beaches where the chicks go topless.”

“You better keep your cash in a nice, fat roll.”

“Why?”

“So you can store it down your pants. That’s the only way the babes’ll notice you.”

“That’s crap. Babes love me. Didn’t you see the way that chick up there couldn’t stop looking at me?”

“Which one?”

“The little redhead. She reminds me of a stripper I knew in Chicago.”

They were talking about Rhonda, her summer student. She was the only redhead among the hostages.

“Yeah, she’s hot. We’ll save her for the last.”

“I don’t care what Knox says, I say we do that kid first. He’s getting on my nerves.”

Do?
she thought. What did they mean?

“Knox needs him to keep the mother in line.”

There was a sucking sound as Taddeo drew hard on his cigarette. “I’ll bleed the kid in front of them. That’ll keep them all in line.”

Realization dawned. Do. They’d meant kill. They were discussing killing Henry as casually as they’d spoken about spending their money. There had been no change in their tone. They continued to smoke and chat like a pair of ordinary workers on a coffee break. She pressed her lips tightly closed, fighting for control. Her chest spasmed.

Mitch took her hand again and squeezed. Hard. This time he didn’t let go.

Dodson crushed his cigarette butt beneath his boot and stood. “Whatever. We can’t start taking them out yet anyway, Taddeo. Knox said three more days. We gotta follow his plan.”

“He’s wasting our time, if you ask me. That fat dude ain’t gonna screw with us.” The canoe slid an inch backward as Taddeo pushed to his feet. His cigarette butt bounced on the floor and rolled toward Chantal’s face. “He’ll do what he’s told.”

She stared at the burning tip of the cigarette. Smoke curled from the dust around it. She thought about the wooden floorboards she and Mitch were lying on, the log walls around them and the oil slick the sunken launch had left on the water below. Would it ignite? She couldn’t move. She was pinned beneath Mitch. She rubbed her head against his cheek, trying to draw his attention.

He bumped his chin on her temple. She couldn’t tell whether he was acknowledging the problem or just cautioning her to keep still.

Mitch,
she thought.
Look!

The men started walking toward the door. “I still say we split Benny’s share,” Taddeo said.

“Sure. You tell him.”

“We should get Bamford’s too. All that college boy does is sit on his ass at the computer.”

Mitch lifted his arm slowly and brought it down on the cigarette, smothering the live tip under his leather sleeve.

Chantal exhaled in relief.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Dodson said. “Sure wouldn’t be my idea of a good time.”

“Yeah. That water stinks.”

“I thought you liked water.”

“Nah, I like beaches. With naked chicks.”

The lights went out. The door closed.

“Wait,” Mitch whispered.

Keeping still was torture. Every nerve in her body was twitching. If she’d had a full stomach, she would have thrown up by now.

The men’s conversation grew fainter as they walked away from the boathouse. Mitch remained motionless until the voices had faded completely, then he slid off her back, picked up his gun and rolled out from beneath the canoe.

She braced her forearms underneath her and lifted her chest, taking her first full breath in what seemed like hours. Despite the shot of oxygen, she felt light-headed.

“Are you okay?”

No, she was not okay. How could she be okay after what she’d heard?

He groped beneath the canoe until he touched her hip.

She jerked at the touch, which didn’t make sense. He’d been plastered to her body for who knew how many minutes. Why was she suddenly sensitized to his touch?

Mitch skimmed his hand along her side to her shoulder. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. I…” She heard the quaver in her voice and swallowed hard. She tipped her head toward his hand. Even though he’d nearly crushed her, she missed his weight. “Mitch, did you hear what they said?”

“Every word.” He circled his fingers around her upper arm to tug her toward him. “Come on. We can’t hang around. From the way those two were talking, they do regular patrols through here.”

She crawled out, then sat back on her heels and slapped at the dust on her clothes. The cloud made her cough. She wiped her palms on her jeans. “They’re going to kill Henry. They’re going to kill all of them.”

“That seems to be their plan.”

“And I was about to cry over a bunch of boats. I thought things couldn’t get worse, but they did.”

He stretched his arm past her to retrieve the flashlight. He didn’t turn it on. It wasn’t necessary. The moon had risen and was shining through the south windows, spreading a silver glow throughout the boathouse. “We’re still alive, Chantal.” He looked around for the branch he’d been using as a cane. It was beside the pile of paddles that Taddeo had knocked over. Gripping it for balance, he shifted to kneel on his right knee. “That counts for a lot.”

“What’s wrong with those people? What do they want?”

“It sounded like they’re after money.”

“But—”

“It’s got to be about Graham.” He brushed at a pale streak of dust on the front of her jacket that she’d missed. “The Petherick Corporation has billions in assets. This must be an extortion attempt.”

“We have to do something.”

“We will.”

She felt a jolt when his knuckles skimmed over her breast. She caught his hand. To push him away? Or to prolong the contact? It was a little of both.

Mitch stilled. Or maybe it only seemed that way. A moment later he used the branch to lever himself to his feet, then drew her up to stand. “We know their timetable now. Three days.”

“Before they start…” The words taunted her like snatches of a bad dream. “Before they start taking out the hostages.”

“They wanted breathing room.”

“For what?”

“They’re waiting for something.”

“I don’t understand any of this.”

“One of the men mentioned a computer. Could be they’re using it to confirm a money transfer. Though if it was only money, it should take less than three days.”

“I don’t understand you, either,” she said. She was still holding his hand, she discovered. She laced their fingers together. “How can you be so calm?”

“I’m not.”

“Sure, you are. You’re sorting through and analyzing what we heard as if you read it in an Intelligence file.”

“We need every scrap of information we can get. It could prove valuable.”

She had a wild urge to shake him. She stepped closer. “Don’t you
feel
, Mitch?”

He looked at their joined hands. “You’ve mentioned that before.”

“You act as if nothing touches you. Nothing bothers you. You’re always in control.”

He freed his fingers from hers, reversed his grip and held her palm to the side of his neck. “Don’t mistake control for a lack of feeling, Chantal.”

His pulse throbbed under her fingertips. It was racing almost as fast as hers.

“I feel everything,” he said. “I’m as worried as you are about the welfare of the hostages, maybe more, because I’ve seen what can happen when situations like this go wrong. Same goes for what could have happened if Dodson and Taddeo had spotted us.” He pressed her hand more firmly to his skin. “I’m concentrating on my duty so I can shut everything else out, but I can’t turn it off entirely.”

She shuddered. “That’s what I mean. I can’t turn it off, either.”

“And if things weren’t already complicated enough, for the last ten minutes, I’ve felt your body under mine and your hair tickling my cheek. A minute ago I felt the curve of your breast under your jacket and right now I can feel the trembling in your fingers. I’ve been doing my damnedest to ignore all of that, too.”

Leave it to Mitch not to beat around the bush. He’d brought up what she hadn’t wanted to face. She’d been aware of everything he’d said, and then some.

It didn’t seem right, with life and death in the balance, to give any thought to her physical needs, yet it wasn’t only worry that was making her heart pound. It was plain, old-fashioned chemistry. She splayed her hand within his grasp. Her thumb traced the edge of his jaw. The day’s growth of his beard stubble bristled. The skin beneath was warm and taut as only a man’s could be.

“The adrenaline’s making us jumpy,” he said. “It’s a natural reaction to what happened here. Now that the danger’s passed, your body’s looking for an outlet for the extra energy.”

Tingles continued to chase across her nerves where she touched him. Yes, it was likely adrenaline that was causing her heightened sensitivity. She’d told herself the same thing this morning.

The trouble was, it didn’t make the sensations any less real.

In the moonlight, Mitch’s features looked harsh, devoid of color. There was no softness to the shadows under his eyebrows and cheekbones, no gradual shading of the sharp angles of his nose and chin. The grooves beside his mouth appeared chiseled into stone.

And yet his pulse continued to accelerate, just like hers. And his eyes, oh, they sparkled with that special warrior’s gleam. She’d have to be dead to ignore that. The fear Chantal had felt only moments ago flipped into another emotion entirely. She swayed against him, seized by a primitive desire for contact.

“Chantal…”

She heard his caution and didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around his waist, fitting their bodies together so that there was no space left between. Her back still bore traces of his warmth. Now she welcomed that warmth into her arms, her breasts and her thighs.

He cupped his hand over her shoulder to ease her away.

Chantal shrugged off his grasp and nuzzled her face past his jacket collar. She kissed his neck.

She discovered that Mitch’s skin tasted the same as she remembered. Soap. Sunshine. The tang like warm cotton that was uniquely his.

A tremor went through his frame. Heat seemed to pour off him in waves. He rested his hand on her back, no longer trying to push her away, yet not pulling her closer, either. He held himself rigid. Restrained. “You’re strung out. You’ll feel better once you sleep.”

She rubbed her nose against the angle of his jaw. He smelled like leather and dust. The last time she’d held him, he’d smelled like rain. She lifted on her toes to bring her mouth to his. She spoke against his lips. “It isn’t sleep that I need.”

“Trust me.” His voice was hoarse. “You don’t want to do this.”

The present merged with the past. In her mind, she heard the echo of Mitch’s voice.
Chantal, stop. You’re not thinking straight. You don’t want to do this.

He was right. Both times. But once again, she shut out the voice of reason. She followed her instincts and kissed him.

The contact was electrifying. She remembered the touch of his mouth as vividly as she remembered the taste of his skin. Why was that? She’d kissed him only once before. It had been brief and awkward—she’d been straining toward him while he’d been backing away. She’d done her best to block the memory of that particular humiliation, yet her subconscious must have stored it all these years because he didn’t feel like a stranger. He felt familiar. No, more than familiar,
right.
His mouth settled over hers as perfectly as their bodies were fitting together.

And this time, he wasn’t pushing her away. He flattened his hand at the small of her back and hauled her against him. Then he tilted his head and slid his tongue into her mouth.

The pleasure of that joining astonished her. It traveled to every intimate place in her body. She arched into him, tunneling her fingers into his hair to hold him exactly where he was. She wouldn’t lose him again. She didn’t want this to end.

To her delight, he wasn’t trying to go anywhere. A moan rumbled from his chest. He withdrew his tongue, only to plunge it in harder and faster. He took full possession of her mouth, as if he had every right, as if they’d both been waiting for this moment. The world contracted around them. All she was aware of was his taste, his strength, the slick moisture on her lips, the hot breath on her cheek.

Any remaining echoes of the past were overpowered by the sheer carnality of the kiss. This was no awkward encounter between a teenager and her fantasy hero. This was frank, sexual passion.

Chantal shuddered as the rhythm of the kiss resounded between her legs. Never had she felt such an imperative…
need
. Her body was pulsing. Without being conscious of making a decision, she hooked one foot behind his calf and angled her hips to his. She showed him what she wanted, oblivious to everything except the desire to get closer.

Mitch lost his balance and staggered backward, breaking off the kiss. He released his hold on her, stumbled into the heap of paddles and fell with a crash that seemed to echo past the boathouse walls and across the lake.