Deadly Alliance (13 page)

“Back up. First things first, you know that Sheriff McGill sent me Sean Rourke’s cell.” The bloodhound gained intel on the whereabouts of criminals and murmured something about aerial surveillance. “Sean’s cell location is near an old mining road.”

Finn recalled Papa speaking of it.

Guhleman continued. “We’ve got eyes on Sean’s cabin. Three moss-covered steps. Roughhewn wooden hut. It’s in keeping with the fog, the hooting owls, and a full moon.”

“And it’s almost Halloween,” Finn said. “Are you ready for Amy’s location?”

“Hit send.” Guhleman growled. “Here’s the drill. Our vehicle will follow Amy’s cell. Finn, we’ve got yours as well.”

“Just so you know, Guhleman,” Finn said. “Sean and Les have conversed.”

“They did, huh,” Guhleman said. “Bet one is doing a favor for the other.”

Finn made no attempt to hide his exasperation. “McGill and I are on the move.”

“Good. We’ll take the road less traveled.”

Finn clicked off. Dread settled over him. Every minute increased the danger of the tables being turned. He hardly took a breath as the sheriff drove.

A half hour later, McGill turned off the cruiser’s headlights. “We’re close.”

In front of them was the dark outline of a van. Finn made out movement on the bank of the road. He hopped out, dashed to the van. “Amy!” he shouted.

“Finn. We’re okay.” Her voice came from inside the van.

Lester Kelly came from high weeds and stopped ten feet away. To his right Sean Rourke held a Kel-Tec sub at his shoulder.

“Are you armed?” Les asked.

“Seemed to be the smart thing to do,” Finn said.

“Careful, Donahue. Let’s have it.” Sean leveled the muzzle of his gun with Finn’s chest.

He slowly pulled a Glock from his pocket and dropped it on the ground between them.

Les looked around. “Where’s McGill?”

“Dropped him off.” Finn told a fib. McGill was sending a text message to Guhleman. “Just kidding. He’s hiding in that old barn.” A horse whinnied, and he tipped his head toward the noise. “He’s saddling up a mare.”

“Riding out, just like the Old West?” Sean chuckled and nodded to Les to follow him. They faced him with their backs less than ten feet from the van. “Move down the line.”

Finn took a few steps backward. “You’re a Rourke. Why protect Les?” Finn guessed Sean wanted some of his loot.

“I need to keep him alive.” Sean’s voice lacked emotion. “Have been.”

“You have been,” Finn said. “Something else I can’t budge from my mind.”

“What’s that?” Sean asked.

“You shot Liam.” Finn understood the family dynamics. Sean needed a way to get one up on his controlling father.

Les rubbed the back of his head. “Bloody hell. You’re playing us. Don’t be a bastard, Finn.” Les didn’t believe it.

“Me, a bastard?” Finn switched the topic. “My mother was married to my dad when I was born.”

“You have no gun, no leverage.” Les nodded toward his van. “Inside the van, a gun is trained on Amy.”

“Who’s holding it?” Finn kept his eyes on Les.

“Cassidy. I’ll order her to shoot. Like I said,” Les shouted, “you have no leverage.”

A side door opened. A blonde stopped about an arm’s reach behind his former partner. She held a pocket knife. Another woman, a brunette, held a pot. Amy and Cassidy.

Finn shrugged. “I disagree.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Finn saw narrow red beams on Les and Sean. The FBI stood ready, but Finn held up his hands in a hold-off gesture. Let the women do their magic.

* * *

Amy squeezed her pocket knife so tightly it hurt.
Don’t be stupid. Be fast.
She gave Cassidy a nod. Amy surged upward with every ounce of her strength and funneled it into the open blade. She drove it into Les’ back. “You, you, jerk!”

Les turned in pain, and she kneed him in the balls.

A second later, Cassidy slammed a pot at the back of Sean’s head. He fell, and she brought it down on him, whacking him again and again.

Amy sputtered insults at Les until she ran out of words to call him. She turned to Cassidy. “Come on, girlfriend. Finn and Byron have this.”

Cassidy looked at the guns on the ground. “Those are the real thing. Not like the air gun Les gave me to guard you.”

“Looked real, except for the orange tip.” Amy’s brother had one.

“They’re not dead yet.” Cassidy bent for the Kel-Tec.

“Leave them.” Amy kicked the guns away from where they stood.

Storming forth from all sides, FBI operatives rushed to cuff their prisoners. Les’ van was searched.

“No need to carry out this locker,” Guhleman said. “It’s full of drugs. I’ll drive it to headquarters.”

“Yes, sir.” Operatives loaded Les and Sean into their FBI vehicle, but Guhleman remained and headed toward McGill.

Amy focused on Cassidy and tried to hold it together. “My throat pinches.”

“Mine, too,” Cassidy said. “I can’t swallow.” Her voice cracked.

Amy shook a little. “Les planned to trade you to Takbir.”

“Both of us and the drugs. You can’t trust a criminal. Les didn’t trust me.” Cassidy took hold of Amy’s arm and squeezed as tight as a crayfish.

“Nope, he didn’t. Otherwise, you’d have a real gun.”

“Yup.” Cassidy let go of her arm.

“Les gave us roses. Creepy, don’t you think?”

“He had intimate relations with both of us. Forgive me?”

“Consider yourself forgiven. Both of us were sucked in.” Amy saw headlights come over the ridge. The engine purred as wheels bumped over the uneven blacktop. It pulled to a stop. The doors popped open, and out came Spencer, Bayliss, Brooke and Gunner.

“Spencer!” Cassidy took off like a shot.

Byron McGill saw his wife and dashed to her side.

Brooke held Gunner’s hand, the driver of the Arrowhead plumber’s SUV.

Amy guided her feet in Finn’s direction. “Hi,” she said in her nervous squeaky voice.

“How’s the most beautiful girl in Lake Arrowhead?” He skimmed his large hand over her arm.

“Pretty good,” she whispered. “I’m hoping for some bad romance.”

He put his jacket around her. “You’ve got bounce to your walk,” he said, kissing her forehead. Another kiss between her eyebrows, and one on her cheek. “A shrinking violet you’ll never be. Not when you carry your Swiss army knife.” His tenor voice was rough and hauled her to the sensuous places they shared.

“I’m ready for all you’ve got.” She drew his lips down to hers.

Finn tugged off her black wig and put it on his own head.

“Funny guy, it’s sideways.”

“You two, Donahue, Amy,” Agent Gary Guhleman shouted. “Get over here.” Finn’s arm went around her, and together they joined the gathering. Seeing Finn in her wig made her relax. She let her arms swing and felt good about her newfound backbone.

Guhleman stood at the center. “Things are going down. Where, might you ask? In Ireland, but we don’t know where. Here, we got some help from the ladies. Glad you’re safe, Cassidy and Amy. Maybe you can tell us more.”

Finn turned toward Cassidy. “Where’s the next meet-up?”

Cassidy stiffened. “Cantina Miguel on Snowapple Lane. There’s a kitchen in the back.”

“Hell’s kitchen when we get there.” The bloodhound put his hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Donahue. You know more ways to kill than Ramsey has recipes. Sorry. A civilian sits this one out.” A slight smile played on the agent’s lips.

“That’s cool, but I’ll locate Aidan Rourke. Nothing I can’t handle.” Finn gritted his teeth on hitting a brick wall. They weren’t in Vegas. “Rourke and his band headed to Dublin.” His mother, too.

Guhleman laughed. “You’re the stubborn one. It’s worth the effort. I’ll text you our Irish CIA liaison.”

Finn drew Amy close.

With his chin on her head, she felt her entire body shake.

“Delayed reaction, baby.”

“I’m not in danger anymore. I’m with you.” She reached into her pocket. “Whoops. The keys to your pickup are in the door.”

“We’ll leave them there. I’m getting you home. My home.” A cool blast of wind whipped along the blacktop so powerfully, it blew off his wig and rattled the sagging roof of the nearby barn. “A storm’s brewing.”

Chapter Ten

At his farmhouse Finn lit a fire. She wore his huge sweats and sat in a rocking chair. It creaked as she rocked, but she hadn’t shaken the paranoia. If someone outside were looking in, all they’d see is firelight flickering over walls.

Finn carried a footstool and placed it in front of her. Parking himself with his feet outside the rocker’s runners, he reached his arms around the back of her chair, leaning close. She looked down. He never looked her in the eyes, and she refused to.

He tipped up her chin and had no choice.

She did stare back. Right into his eyes, the blue of the horizon just before nightfall. “Are you going to ask me if I’m okay?”

“Why would I? You’re not okay.” He shook his head. “I’m not going to ask you anything. You have decisions to make.”

“Yeah,” she said dully, not knowing what she expected of him and not sure what he wanted. “Do you still need me as your bookkeeper?”

He nodded.

“A nine-to-five is fantastic. I need to play catch up.”

“I’m giving you a paid leave of absence.”

“You are?”

He took in a breath, let it out. “I want you chained to your sewing machine.”

“Supplies are at my place. I can work better there.”

“I’ll drive over with you. Get you situated.” His eyes were heated on hers. Fierce. Unwavering. Protective. “November fifteenth is not far away.”

“You remembered.” Holy shit, he’s looking in my eyes.
That was her sole thought, and she almost said it with sheer appreciation. “I’ll make my best presentation.”

“I’ll help you.” In the firelight, his naked chest gleamed muscular and lethal.

“You sew?” Her eyes met his gaze. Something changed between them, and she understood. He trusted her.

“I know someone who knows someone who sews.” He looked so impossibly large. A man who knew people. A man who commanded people to do things.

“You do. Who?” She let out a breath and shook it off.

“Dolly Pugh. Her niece, Georgia, is a seamstress. They’ll make sure you have your mockups ready.” When he was tired, as he was now, he went on autopilot but trusted his instincts.

It did something to her, looking at him like this. He was never vulnerable, but was accessible.

“They sound almost like family.”

“They will be. My dad phoned me. With all the crap I had on my plate, I didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“Papa gave Dolly a box of chocolates and a chocolate diamond engagement ring. They’re getting married.” Ex-military, Finn retained his skills. In addition, outside of battle, he kept his skills to be a caring son.

“I’m thrilled for them. Do they need help with an engagement party?” She just remembered her promise to Cassidy for next weekend.

“No, they celebrated at their complex. They’re tying the knot on Trout Days. The wedding will be on a pontoon.”

“How romantic!”

“You’re invited.” Even though his eyes looked sleepy, sweet Jesus, his arms were firm and strong. His entire body was completely badass, big, and edgy. She couldn’t look away from it.

“You’re drowning in my sweats. They’re more than a few sizes too big.”

“The fire and the sweats should be making me hot.” Her teeth chattered.

“Should be?” Did he know something she didn’t?

Before, she was too scared to think about making love. Now it was all she wanted. A night filled with passion and desire. There was the added bonus of both of them knowing what this was and what it wasn’t. The expiration date was here. He didn’t need her. Together they’d found the source of his company’s missing cash. Still, they were friends. Friendly friends walk away with smiles on their faces. Trusted friends looked at each other.

“I want you.” He took a heavy quilt from the sofa and spread it in front of the fireplace.

She knelt behind him and had to clear her throat before speaking. “I want you, too. And, need you.” Lord, how she needed him.

He turned and slipped his arms around her waist. He dipped his head to gently rub his days-old whiskers against her jaw.

She moved under him. Above her, braced on an elbow, his hand pushed her hair away from her neck. He ran his talented mouth along her neck. His teeth scraped over her. “This needs to go.” Off went the sweatshirt and the sweatpants. “Are you cold?”

“Not anymore.” She played with the top button of his Levis and brushed her fingers against his washboard abs. He was beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful.

* * *

Finn woke at seven in the morning, but lay in bed an extra hour, stretched out like a starfish. Amy jerked and shivered, which was usually a bonus, but this was not from want. “You have a right to feel post-traumatic.” He looked at her face.

“Did you?” She was pinched around the mouth, dehydrated from panic. She said, “In Iraq, you saw battle and death.”

He handed her a water bottle from the bedside stand. “All of us struggled with PTSD. If we don’t get help, nightmares take over. We’re distant, closed off. My dad helped me through it.”

She sipped. “I didn’t think I was capable of violence.”

“With your knife?” he asked. “Your prowess makes you all the more attractive.”

“You don’t mind being with a violent woman?”

He had a whole new appreciation for her spunky sweetness. “Want to wrestle?”

“Nude wrestling sounds amusing. For the future.” Her pink camisole was sheer and barely contained her spilling breasts. He lifted her breasts, savoring their weight and softness. Pushing them together, he licked and sucked her hard peaks. Her shuddering drove him as he skimmed his hand down her belly and then back to trace the heavy underside of her breasts before nudging off her straps. “You’re so pretty, it hurts.”

“You’re so handsome, it hurts.” Her eyes drifted shut. As she dropped her head back, he felt her hair against his chest.

“I just want to touch you. Not make love.” As he rasped his thumb over her hardened nipple, she purred. She pulled his T-shirt up and over his head, stroked his abs, and then caressed him lower and lower.

He turned her to face him. She slid her hands up his scruffy jaw. He pushed her cami down and her panties with it. He cupped the curve of her ass and pulled her in close. Her pelvis pressed against the explosive need he held.

She draped her leg over him. “I will always want you.”

He caught her knee and held it, met her mouth for another kiss and wanted more of her intoxicating presence.

“Give it to me.” She clawed to get closer and moved on top of him.

He entered her in a single thrust. He entwined their fingers and brought her to ecstasy.

She intrigued him. Aroused something more than desire. Made him need to know her, help her achieve, and not be a distraction to her dream.

* * *

Amy opened the front door to morning sunlight. “Meow, Toughie.” The cat scampered across the newspaper. Amy picked it up, turned, opened the paper, bumped into a hard chest.

Finn held up his index fingers. “Don’t read it. The front page is not relevant.”

She waved her hand and smiled. “I will determine relevance.”

Finn’s eyes grabbed hers in a death grip. “The FBI films their operations. Just a warning.”

“I’ll see the article today or tomorrow.” She didn’t want to bury anything below the surface of her soul.

Finn reached for her hand. “Focus on your presentation. Don’t let news eat up your energy.”

She brushed by him to go inside. Empathy in his expression made her madder. She didn’t want pity. “Do I look weak?”

“Not at all. Go ahead. Open it up.” He moved their full coffee mugs to the edge of the kitchen table.

She spread front page open. “Oh, my God.” She glanced closer at the headline,
Quick Minds. She winced.

He looked over her shoulder at the photo. “There you are, Cassidy with her pan, you with your pocket knife.”

“Yeah, two maniacs.” She wanted to look smart, wanted the right kind of attention in her camp.

“Let’s just say it’s a wild card.” He gave her a measured look, and folded his arms, back against the refrigerator. “The newspaper is starting a column.”

Overtaken by nervousness, she chewed on her lower lip as she read the caption. “Why?”

“The shakedown of Takbir fund raising is big news.” He wasn’t smiling. “This first installment,
Quick Minds, is a catalyst.”

Finn downed his coffee, tucked the newspaper under his arm and trotted to his computer.

She felt numb and watched him sit at the computer.

He logged into Newser, the online news website. At the top of the screen, the Arrowbear article appeared. Takbir, the Surenos, Lester Kelly and Sean Rourke were brought to justice.

She leaned closer. “Notice, there’s nothing about the location of the Waterfront Roaches.”

He swiveled his chair sideways. “If there was, the CIA’s operation in Ireland would be shit-canned.”

She moved onto his lap. Squirmed to the right and left.

His long legs stretched out. “Loose ends aren’t quite tied up. It’s been good so far.”

“Hmm. Yes.” She kissed the man bigger than life. Tall. Devastatingly handsome. Dark hair, piercing, blue eyes. He was a force of change.

He kissed her back and put his hands at her waist, gesturing for her to stand. “Come on. You’ve been away from your place of comfort and files.”

She didn’t stand. “That’s where I first found Les’ packet.” She hoped to find nothing more amiss.

“Like I said, I’ll drive you over.”

“Remember the map I found?” She’d printed several copies after scanning it into her computer.

“Whenever you have time, let’s hike up there. What do you think? You and me.”

“Perfect.” Tears filled her eyes. “You can’t believe my appreciation. For all you do for me.” She knew he’d be grooved in her memories. A balloon rose in her throat. She couldn’t speak, but leaned to touch her forehead to his. Tears spilled. She drew away as she wiped them and looked in his eyes, warmed by his focus.

He kissed her cheek. “I’ll be around when you need me.”

“Put that hike on your calendar.”

His answer was to pull her close.

He held onto her so tight, she let out a gasp.

“Sorry,” he said softly in her ear. “I don’t want to take your freedom. I do want some of your time.”

She hugged him and surveyed the movement on the porch. “Toughie is marking his territory.”

Finn adjusted himself on the chair, and she felt his arousal.

“You’re the one who brought up marking.” His eyebrow winged up.

“If you want to claim me, I won’t complain.” One of these days she’d have to move on. How could she if Finn still wanted her? No one had any idea she was in love with him. Wallpaper patterns repeated, but blending in wasn’t her style anymore. She’d take bad romance in limbo before she’d give him up.