In Bed with the Enemy (10 page)

“Come here, sweetheart,” he said, reaching out to wrap his arms around her waist.

Laughing, she allowed him to haul her onto his lap. “I see you're in caveman mode again.”

“Something you do well, you should do often,” he said, grinning back. “And you're always telling me how great I am at being a caveman.”

She put one arm around his shoulders, then brought her other hand up to trace the line of his jaw with her finger. “I'm not going to argue with you about that. You do ‘caveman'
really
well.”

He kissed the side of her slender neck. “You know, sometimes being a Neanderthal has its advantages.”

“And what would they be?”

He felt a slight tremor course through her as he continued to nibble at her earlobe and the sensitive hollow below. “I'm expected to ravish the woman I carry off to my cave.”

“I'll have to admit that's something else you do
very
well,” she said, sighing softly.

“Only with you, sweetheart.” He leaned her back so he could gaze down at her beautiful face. “Do you have any idea how special you are?”

“Not me,” she said. “You.”

Cole shook his head. “No. I'm just the lucky guy you graced with your pretty smile.” He brushed his mouth over hers. “You're the most exciting, passionate woman I've ever met, and I swear your kisses are addictive.”

Touching her soft lips with his, he traced them with his tongue. He didn't think he'd ever tasted anything sweeter. He coaxed her to open for him, and when the tip of her tongue shyly touched his, his body responded in a way that left him dizzy. He was harder
than hell and wanting her more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

No other woman had ever affected him the way Elise did. All she had to do was smile at him, or touch his hand with hers, and his hormones were off to the races.

He might have been able to fight the urge and keep his body under control, had she lain passively in his arms and just let him kiss her. But when she tugged his shirt from his jeans to run her palm over his belly, then up to rest over his thudding heart, he forgot all about hit men and the danger they both might be in at that very moment. Her fingers massaging his muscles, exploring his puckered nipple, sent a flash fire straight to his groin and made rational thought impossible.

Breaking the kiss to drag some much-needed air into his lungs, he rasped, “Sweetheart, if you don't stop that, I swear I won't be responsible for what happens next.”

“Then don't be,” she said, smiling up at him.

The invitation in her sweet face had Cole closing his eyes as he tried to resist the urge to take her right then and there. But apparently she had other ideas.

The blood rushing through his veins caused his ears to ring as she sat up and tugged his belt free from the buckle. “E-Elise, what the hell are you doing?” Her expression, the desire he saw in her emerald eyes, told him exactly what she intended to do. “I don't think—” he had to stop to clear the gravel from his throat “—this is a good idea.”

She carefully lowered his zipper, then stopped to
give him a grin that just about sent him over the edge. “You're right. It's not a good idea. It's a great one.”

Cole tried to remember why she was wrong. But God help him, he couldn't think of one single reason. He gave up trying. Making love with Elise had become as natural to him as taking his next breath.

He captured her lips with his and kissed her again, letting her taste his need, the hunger that burned within him every time he took her into his arms. Running his hand beneath her dress, he caressed her knee, her thigh, then brushed his hand against her panties. He slipped his fingers inside, and finding her tiny pleasure point, stroked her with infinite care.

Her complete readiness for him, the dewy essence of her desire, caused his heart to pound in his chest like a war drum. She lifted her hips for him to remove the silk and lace, and her complete trust just about sent him past the point of no return.

But when she lightly stroked the taut ridge straining against his briefs, he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth together so hard that he figured it would take a trip to the dentist to pry them apart. “Sweetheart, I think you'd better stop that real quick.”

“Why?” She sounded just as turned on as he was.

He opened his eyes to give her a meaningful look. “Because if you keep touching me like that, I'm not going to last any longer than a New York minute.” Catching her hands in his, he brought them to his lips to kiss each one of her talented fingers. “Give me just a second.”

Setting her beside him on the swing, he fished his wallet from his hip pocket, opened it and pulled out a foil packet from inside. He shoved his briefs aside,
then once he'd taken care of protecting them, he gathered her in his arms and lifted her to straddle his hips. The full skirt of her dress settled around them like a mint-green cloud as she eased herself down and her supple body took him in.

Cole felt as if he'd found the other half of himself. His chest swelled with an emotion he wasn't ready to identify, and tried not to think about, as he set the swing in motion.

The feel of Elise surrounding him, the passion reflected in her emerald gaze, clouded his mind to anything but the need to once again make her his. The gentle rocking of the swing, the moving of their bodies in unison, quickly had them both climbing the pinnacle.

When he shifted to be closer to her, he felt her tiny feminine muscles tense, then contract as she found the completion they both desired. Her climax triggered his own and his body shuddered from the force of it. Never had their lovemaking been more fulfilling, more poignant.

His breathing harsh, he closed his eyes and held her tightly against him. He'd taken a big risk making love to her out in the open, and if something had happened, he would have never forgiven himself.

He kissed her with every emotion he was feeling but couldn't express, then helped her to her feet. While she took care of arranging her clothes, he righted his, then blew out the candles.

“Let's take this to my cave, sweetheart,” he said, picking up the picnic basket, and taking her hand in his. “I want to love you slowly the next time, and I for damn sure can't do that on that swing.”

“I thought the swing was rather inspiring,” she said, her smile sending his blood pressure off the chart and his senses spinning out of control.

Placing a quick kiss on her soft lips, he pulled her along as he made a beeline up the path leading to the inn's lobby. “I'll show you inspiring just as soon as we get back to my room.”

Not only did he want to get her inside where it was safer, he wanted to love her in ways that the swing in the gazebo just wouldn't allow.

D
eciding it might not be a good idea for his truck to be seen at the warehouses on the same day Yardley had been poking around, Ricky Mercado parked the vintage Chevy by the Mercado Trucking Company depot. Benito Pascal, the manager, was used to Ricky parking his vehicles there whenever he went out of town. Of course, that had been in the old days before he officially left the family and started trying to straighten out his miserable life. But Benito wouldn't care. He'd just figure, like everyone else, that Ricky really hadn't quit and had gone somewhere on business for Valente.

Ricky muttered a pithy curse. Like that would ever happen.

He reached into the glove compartment to remove a small metal flashlight, then got out of the truck.
Shoving the light into the hip pocket of his jeans, he set out walking the half-mile to the warehouses. When he passed the gas station—the
only
gas station between Mission Creek and Laredo, Texas—he made sure to keep to the shadows. No sense alerting anyone that he was prowling around after dark, even if he was going to inspect his own property.

The crunching sound of his boots on the gravel driveway leading up to the first warehouse split the night quiet and sent apprehension streaking through him. He ignored it.

He didn't spook easy. Never had. Hell, he'd walked through guerilla-infested jungles at night where the foliage was so thick it was pitch-black and he hadn't been able to see his hand two inches from his nose. So what the hell was wrong with him?

But tonight, something just didn't feel right. It was probably nothing, but he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him, and had been since he'd parked the truck.

Narrowing his eyes, he stopped to scan the area. He didn't see anything, but that didn't mean someone wasn't hiding inside one of the buildings, or behind them.

He stopped at the missing door of the first building, and pulling the flashlight from his pocket, shined it around the inside. The beam of light disturbed an armadillo digging for grubs under a pile of rotting boards. But other than the animal lumbering across the dirt floor to get to his burrowed-out hole in the corner, there was nothing to see.

Still feeling as if he was being followed, Ricky continued to the second warehouse, alert to any
movement, any indication that someone was lurking in the shadows. Just as he pried open the door to shine his flashlight inside the building's interior, he heard a dull thud at the same time blinding pain exploded at the back of his head. The light in his hand went flying a moment before he sank to his knees, then fell face forward. His cheek slammed into the hard-packed dirt, and the last thing he saw before he succumbed to the beckoning darkness of unconsciousness was the spinning beam from the flashlight where it had landed a few feet away.

 

“Wake up, you stupid bastard.”

Someone slapped Ricky across one side of the face, then the other. Pain exploded behind his closed eyes and helped to clear some of the cobwebs from his addled brain.

“Wh—who…the hell…are you?” he asked, slowly opening his eyes.

His lids felt as if they weighed a ton and it took extreme effort for him to fight the lure of slipping back into oblivion. His eyelids drifted shut. Another pain shot through his head as whoever was trying to get him to come to slapped him again.

“Dammit to hell, I said wake up,” the voice snarled close to Ricky's face. The man's fetid breath burned his nostrils and caused his stomach to churn.

Opening his eyes, the room spun dizzily and his vision blurred. When he finally managed to focus on the face in front of him, Ricky found himself staring into the coldest set of eyes he'd ever seen. Ice blue, they were the mean, heartless eyes of a killer.

“Why don't you just whack him and be done with it?” another voice asked from behind Ricky.

So they were hit men. But who put the contract on his head? And why?

Ricky tried to turn, to see who the man behind him was, but he couldn't move. That's when he realized the son of a bitch held his arms behind his back. Ricky could tell that the guy was shorter than he was and struggled to free himself. But the man was stout and Ricky's efforts proved useless.

Turning his attention back to Cold Eyes, Ricky sized up his opponent. Cold Eyes was about Ricky's height and weight, and looked to be in pretty good condition.

“Who hired you?” Ricky asked. He needed to buy some time, to look for an edge. If he didn't find one, he was a dead man.

Cold Eyes shook his head. “That's none of your business.” He doubled his fist and landed it hard against Ricky's jaw. Pain immediately shot all the way to the top of his skull. “But he told us to mess up that pretty face of yours before we kill you,” Cold Eyes said as he landed another blow, this time to Ricky's nose and mouth.

Ricky felt his lip split, then something trickle from his nose. The warm, salty taste of his own blood spread through his mouth when he tried to speak. “Did the bastard say why he wants me dead?”

“It doesn't matter,” Shorty answered. “He paid top dollar. That's all we care about.”

Ricky struggled and tried to think of a way out of his captor's grasp. If he didn't get loose, and damn
quick, he wouldn't have a chance in hell of surviving.

Seeing the next blow coming, Ricky turned his head and Cold Eyes's fist glanced off his cheek. The evasive move only served to piss off the hit man. Stepping close, he jabbed Ricky hard in the gut with his elbow.

The blow caused Ricky to fold and his sagging weight proved too much for the man behind him. When he dropped to his hands and knees, Cold Eyes kicked him in the side.

Ricky gritted his teeth to the pain and waited. When the hit man started to kick him again, he seized the opportunity he'd been looking for. Reaching out, he grabbed Cold Eyes's boot and pulled. As the hit man dropped to the floor beside him, Ricky rose to his knees to bury his fist in the man's stomach, then tried to get to his feet while the man struggled to breathe.

But Shorty hit him across the back of the head with something, causing Ricky to see stars dance before his eyes. He managed to turn and land a blow to Shorty's face, sending the man reeling backward into a pile of wooden skids.

His knuckles stung from connecting with the man's teeth, but Ricky ignored it as he staggered toward the door. The high-pitched hiss of a silenced gun firing, then the sound of a bullet as it whizzed passed his ear, caused him to tuck his body into a crouch.

When he burst through the door and out into the night, Ricky fought to keep from passing out. He had to stay on his feet and moving, otherwise he wasn't going to make it out of this one alive. Forcing himself
to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, he automatically turned toward the lights several hundred yards down the road.

If he had one chance in hell, he had to make it to the gas station.

 

Elise blew out a frustrated breath. She'd intended to break the news to Cole last night about her trip to Mezcaya. But he'd been so determined that they weren't going to talk about their investigations that she'd finally given up. Of course, he hadn't really given her the opportunity to tell him much of anything last night anyway.

She smiled as she thought about how they'd spent their evening and most of the night. Cole had been obsessed with loving her thoroughly and completely, as if trying to reaffirm that she was actually in his arms.

Then, when she'd awakened this morning, he'd already showered and left the room. He had placed a note on his pillow, telling her how much he'd miss her and that he'd be back for lunch. But she'd be at the Corpus Christi airport boarding a plane.

Checking her watch, she sighed and opened the desk drawer. Since he hadn't given her the number of his cell phone, her only option was to leave him a note. Quickly jotting down the details of her trip, and when she'd be returning, she placed the letter in an envelope and sealed the flap.

Now, where could she leave it? she wondered, glancing around his room. Deciding that she'd rather not take the chance of him overlooking the letter, she
grabbed the handles of her carry-on bag and stepped out into the hall. She'd leave it with Mrs. Carter. Elise knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the kindhearted innkeeper would make sure Cole got the note the minute he walked through the entrance of the inn.

“Mrs. Carter, would you mind doing me a huge favor?” Elise asked when she approached the registration desk.

“Of course I will, honey. What do you need?”

Elise handed the woman the envelope. “I have to leave town for a few days, and if it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd like you to give this to Agent Yardley when he returns around lunchtime.”

“I'll be more than happy to,” the woman said, taking the envelope and slipping it into the pocket of her smock.

Elise had no doubt the woman would be poised and waiting when Cole arrived. “Thank you, Mrs. Carter.”

“Think nothin' of it, child.” The woman's eyes lit up. “By the way, how did last night go? Did that boy like the picnic out in the gazebo?”

Nodding, Elise just smiled. There was no way she could tell Mrs. Carter how much Cole enjoyed it without shocking the woman right down to the roots of her gray hair.

“I really need to go now, Mrs. Carter. If you'd see that Cole…Agent Yardley, gets that message, I'd appreciate it.”

The phone rang, and as the woman reached for it, she waved Elise on. “Don't worry, honey. I'll give it to him as soon as he walks through the door.”

 

When Cole turned the SUV into the inn's parking lot, his stomach knotted. Elise's rental car was nowhere in sight.

He took a deep breath and tried to remind himself that it didn't mean she wasn't safe. Wainwright's Detective Bennett was in place as the inn's new maintenance man, and he'd been told that if Elise left the inn for any reason, he was to follow her.

But when Cole entered the lobby and found Bennett standing behind the registration desk, he felt as if an icy hand had closed around his heart. “Where the hell is Elise…Agent Campbell?”

Bennett looked thunderstruck. “In her room.”

Cole shook his head and headed for the elevator. “Her car's gone.”

The detective fell into step beside him. “It can't be. I've been standing behind that desk ever since Mrs. Carter got the call that her daughter had gone into premature labor up in Houston.” He stepped onto the elevator after Cole. “And there hasn't been a soul in or out of this place all morning.”

“What about before Mrs. Carter got the phone call?” Cole demanded, punching the button to the third floor. “Did you see anyone go in or out before then?”

Bennett shook his head. “I've been in that lobby since you left this morning. The only time I wasn't was when—” The man stopped short, then cursed harshly. “Mrs. Carter asked me to go to the garden to collect a bunch of candles someone had left out in the gazebo.” He shook his head. “I wasn't there more than five minutes.”

When the doors to the elevator opened, Cole
stepped out and took off jogging down the hall. God, please let her be in one of our rooms, he prayed.

Digging his room key from the front pocket of his jeans, he jammed it into the lock and turned the knob. “Elise?” he called as he swung the door wide.

Nothing.

He walked straight to the door between his room and hers, then jerked it open. Scanning the room, Cole knew immediately that it was empty. Walking to the closet, he peered inside. All her clothes still hung in a neat row. He turned to see her calculator sitting on the desk beside a stack of computer printouts.

“Where the hell is she?” he asked, not really expecting an answer from Bennett.

Walking into the hall, he stopped to dig a cash-register receipt from his pocket. Turning to the man dogging his steps, he jerked the ink pen from Bennett's shirt pocket. “Here's my cell number,” he said, scribbling the digits on the paper. “You stay here and let me know the second she returns.”

“Where are you headed?” the man asked as he trotted to keep up with Cole.

“I'm going to turn Mission Creek upside down until I find her,” he answered as he opened the door to the stairs. He wasn't about to wait on that slow-as-hell elevator. He had to find Elise before someone else did.

Twenty minutes later, as Cole cruised down the main street of Mission Creek, the knot gripping his stomach was almost unbearable. He'd thought she might have gone to the bank for more records. When he'd inquired about her being there, the bank president said he hadn't seen her in several days. The next
place he'd checked had been the Lone Star Country Club, thinking she might have gone for a swim or a workout in the gym. But there hadn't even been a sedan in the parking lot the same color as hers.

Where the hell could she be?

Stopping by the sheriff's office, Cole advised Justin Wainwright that Elise was missing, and asked that he put out an APB on her. Once Cole had taken care of that, he called Bennett at the inn to see if she'd returned. She hadn't.

As he drove back through town, he checked his watch. Damn, he needed to search for Elise, but he also had to finish his investigation of the warehouses before the time limit ran out on the warrant.

He cursed and headed to the western edge of town. Once he got done giving those buildings a quick once-over, he was damn well going to find Elise.

 

Descending the portable stairs that had been rolled up to the side of the plane, Elise stepped down onto the tarmac. The heat and humidity were stifling as she scanned the small crowd of people there to meet the aircraft, but she was too excited to notice. For the first time in her career with the FBI, she was actually working undercover—something she'd wanted to do since joining the Bureau.

“Señorita?”