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Authors: Joan Swan

Blaze (10 page)

BOOK: Blaze
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Her gaze fell on a black sedan parked in a shallow valley.
She held the rest of her questions until he was behind the wheel, pulling out onto the road. “You're going the wrong way.”
“No, I'm not.”
She turned and looked at his profile. So different from Tony. All balance and symmetry. Square jaw, high cheekbones, full lips. Too handsome. Too damned sexy. Frustration burned. “Your hair's too long. You look like a girl.”
He lifted a brow, cast a
where-did-that-come-from?
look out of the corner of his eye, and raised his chin toward Mateo. “That's funny considering you can't keep your hands out of those curls.”
“He's a little boy, not a grown man. When's the last time you shaved?”
“I was about to when
someone
called begging for my help. I got a little . . . distracted.”
Distracted
. Keira's mind shifted to another place, another time, another distraction. To Luke standing in front of the mirror in his bathroom at his home in Truckee, with nothing but a white towel wrapped low at his hips. She could still see the tan shade of his skin and the muscles of his chest and belly rippling beneath. The strip of fine gold hair starting at his navel and disappearing beneath the edge of the towel shimmered in the fluorescent light as he bent over the sink with a razor in one hand, shaving cream in the other.
She had uncoiled from their warm bed and walked in on him. The animalistic look he'd tossed her way then made her blood simmer even now.
“Baby,” he'd said, with a hot, sweeping glance down her naked body, “don't distract me when I've got a razor blade in my hand.”
Luke hit the brakes. The car jerked and slid on the sandy highway. Keira held Mateo tight with one arm, slapped the other hand to the dash.
When they came to a stop, Keira's gaze scoured the landscape, searching for a threat. “What? What's wrong?”
Luke's low growl filled the car. “What the fuck was that?”
“What was . . . ?”
Keira swung her attention to Luke, and the expression on his face stopped her midsentence. Then the sensation penetrated. Lust. Vivid, fiery, nearly painful desire danced around the car's interior, pierced her chest, and prodded a similar awareness deep inside her to come out and play.
Lucky for her, Luke didn't give it a chance. He lowered his chin, raised his hand, and pointed at her. “Don't you dare start putting shit like that—”
“Shit?” She raised her brows. “I see. Our memories are now
shit
in your book?”
“That's not what I meant—”
“Let's make this clear—I'm not putting anything into your head.” She swung her hair over her shoulder and lowered her voice to a velvety tone he used to thrive on. If she had to suffer, she might as well have company. “Because if I were, I would have added the incredible smell of that shaving cream. Mmm, yeah.” She closed her eyes, dropped her head back, and took a long, slow, deep breath through her nose, filling her chest. “I would have added the memory of how I pulled that towel off you and started drawing—”
“Keira! Stop.” He shifted in his seat and tugged on the leg of his jeans as if they were too small. “For Christ's sake, I remember just fucking fine, thank you very much.”
“How does that saying go?” A zing of accomplishment made her grin. “Don't let that smart mouth write checks your sweet ass can't cash?”
“Christ,” he muttered, releasing the brake and starting forward again, wiping his forehead as if he were sweating. “I don't even want to hear what others say aloud half the time. I sure as hell don't want to hear what they're thinking. Why the hell am I here again?”
A flutter of guilt dulled the enjoyment of seeing him suffer. He
had
saved her. She didn't know if she would have gotten away from Tony on her own or not, although she would have tried. She could have very well died out here tonight. Mateo could have died out here with her.
Keira released her seat belt and shifted Mateo in her lap so she could lean across the console. She pressed her forehead to Luke's cheek. Absorbed the gentle scratch of his whiskers on her skin. So real. So alive. Closed her eyes and breathed in that familiar sexy scent of pure Luke. The blend of sweat and soap and skin went straight to her bloodstream. Who needed booze? Who needed drugs? He was the only controlled substance she'd ever wanted. Only, coming off the high? Not so fun.
She pressed her lips against the hollow of his cheek. Just for a second. Only a second. Forced herself to pull away. “Thank you for coming.”
“Suck-up.” His voice came out rough as he reached around and gave her head an affectionate squeeze against his before pushing her away. “Get back on your side of the car and fasten your seat belt.”
Yeah. Good idea.
Note to self: Don't do that again. Your control isn't as strong as you think.
Keira redirected her thoughts to the desert view in the headlights as she resettled into her seat when all she wanted to do was climb across the console and straddle Luke's lap. “How did you beat us here?”
“I flew.”
She raised a brow. “I assume you mean that figuratively.”
“No, literally. I flew. You know, in a plane. One with wings and a propeller—”
“Smart ass. There's no . . .”
Her words died. In the distance, lights twinkled against the night, illuminating a rudimentary airstrip and a couple of industrial buildings surrounded by chain link. Within the confines of the fence, one small engine plane sat waiting.
“Oookaaay,” she said. “Did you get your pilot's license in the last three years in addition to changing careers?”
She couldn't help throwing in a dig about his job change, considering the hell he'd given her when she'd decided to leave firefighting.
“I didn't change careers,” he said. “I'm still in the fire service. ”
“Last time I looked, firefighters didn't carry subguns.”
“So, I'm a fire cop.” Luke slowed the car and squinted through the windshield. “And, no, I didn't get a pilot's license.”
Keira followed his gaze to a man descending from the plane. “Is that your pilot?”
The car came to a complete stop a half mile away from the plane. Luke leaned forward, both arms folded over the steering wheel.
“No,” he said. “That's not my pilot.”
“Goddammit.” Luke sat back and pounded the steering wheel. “Could one freaking thing go right today?”
“We're alive.”
“Thanks, Pollyanna.”
Keira kissed Mateo's head. “Don't grow up to be an ass like some people, okay?”
Luke ground his teeth as the creep inspected the plane. The pilot he'd met at the Las Vegas airport had been wearing black pants and a white shirt before donning an olive-colored air force flight suit. The prowler wore tan cargo pants and a jean jacket. And he was Caucasian. Luke's pilot, Joe Marquez, had been Hispanic.
Before Luke could figure out the next step, another man emerged from one of the hangars. Still not Joe.
A touch grazed his arm. He turned to look at Keira, but the heat traveling up his shoulder and across his chest came from Mateo. The kid was sitting up, his big brown eyes glazed as if his mind was somewhere else.
“Einai entaksei, Lucas.”
He had no idea what the boy had said, but was reassuring nonetheless. He reached over and ruffled the curls Keira loved so much. “Guess we need to go to plan B, huh, buddy?”
“What's plan B?” Keira asked.
“Don't have one.”
A hard knock clattered on Keira's window. All three of them startled. Luke and Keira drew their weapons at the same time and pointed at the glass.
A man stood outside in a partial crouch, hands up, palms out. “It's me. Marquez.”
Luke released the air caught in his lungs. “I'm going to die of a heart attack before this night is over. It's my pilot.”
Keira didn't move. “How do you know you can trust him?”
“Because he's Mitch's friend.”
Her gun lowered, and she twisted to look at Luke over her shoulder, eyes bright with renewed interest. “Mitch? Mitch got the plane?” A smile drifted over her mouth as she hit the button to roll down the window. “I'm going to be giving that man an appropriate thank-you next time I see him.”
“Over my dead body,” Luke muttered.
“That can be arranged.”
“Hel-looo.” He pointed at himself. “I'm the one who's here. I'm the one who's risked his ass half a dozen times today, not that pansy wannabe.”
“You're so exaggerating. Twice, and one of those is washed out by the fact that I saved your ass once. Don't worry, by the time this is over, I have a feeling we'll be even.”
“That doesn't exactly make me feel better.”
“Hey, there, ma'am.” Marquez offered his hand through the window. “Colonel Joseph Marquez, United States Air Force, retired.”
They shook. “Keira O'Shay, Special Agent, FBI, seriously
wishing
I were retired.”
Marquez chuckled.
“You forgot your SWAT title,” Luke muttered.
“Oh, yeah. That, too.” She looked down at Mateo, who was peering at the man from his customary spot leaning against Keira's chest. “This is . . . well, we think his name is Mateo.”
Marquez reached in to take the boy's hand. Keira expected Mateo to shrink, but he didn't. He let Marquez engulf his hand and shake.
“Hey, little man. You sure are cute.”
Keira lifted her chin toward the airstrip. “What's going on over there?”
“No idea.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Sure would love to know how they got out here so fast, though.”
“Probably followed the flight plan,” Keira said.
“Nope.” Marquez leaned one forearm on the window ledge. “Flying under the radar tonight.”
“Get in.” Luke hooked a finger toward the backseat. “We'll figure it out on the move.”
“Nah.” A glint of excitement sparked in Marquez's dark eyes. “I've got a few buddies and the cops coming. Those guys will never mess with one of my planes again.”
He reached into the front pocket of his jumpsuit, fishing around for something. “Take this road back the way you came. In a quarter of a mile, turn right. The road dips into a shallow valley, so no one coming this way will see your headlights. It'll dump you back onto the highway past the road the cops will take to get here. Hawthorne is a hundred miles northwest. Carson City is another sixty.”
He pulled out two business cards from his jumpsuit and handed them to Keira. “If you run into any trouble, if you need anything, these guys are pros. One in Hawthorne and one in Carson. They're also indebted to Mitch, so you can trust them. I've called ahead. They're ready if you need anything. And if I get any info out of these yahoos”—he nodded toward his plane—“I'll pass it on to Mitch.”
Luke relaxed into the first sense of control he'd had since he'd set foot on this baked Nevada dirt. He reached across Keira and shook Marquez's hand. “We owe you, man.”
“I could do favors for Mitch the rest of my life and not adequately repay him. We're good.” He popped a hand against the window ledge. “Now get out of here before the cops show.”
Marquez jogged into the darkness. Luke swung a U-turn and started back.
After an extended silence Keira said, “Do you know . . . exactly . . . what Mitch does?”
“I know he defends criminals. Does a lot of work for military guys.”
“I know creeps come in every shape, size, and color, but Marquez sure doesn't strike me as a criminal. And if they're dirty, why are all his clients found innocent?”
BOOK: Blaze
11.91Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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