Playing For Keeps (Montana Men) (23 page)

Bowing
his head, words spilled from his mouth in a frightened plea. “Please, God.
Don’t take her from me. I know I’ve been a bastard. I’m a man, and men can be
pigs, but I swear I love her. If one of us has to be sacrificed, let it be me.”
Taylor lifted his head. Dianna shivered. A spear of panic slammed into him. He
bowed his head a second time and mumbled, “Oh yeah, Amen, Lord. I’m sorry I
forgot to say that. Amen.” He didn’t have to touch Dianna’s forehead to know
fever had set in. Taylor grabbed her mink coat and wrapped it around her. “God,
I’m sorry. I can’t seem to stop annoying you this day…I know she deserves
better than me, but no man will ever love her more than I do. So please, if you
need a quota of souls today, leave hers and take mine.”

Taylor
curled up beside Dianna and pulled her close.

And
he continued praying throughout the long hours of the day. When it came right
down to, he figured a one-on-one with the Lord couldn’t hurt—and just maybe
it’d help.

Chapter Eighteen

The average woman would rather have beauty
than brains, because the average man can see better than he can think.

~Author Unknown

McLean, Virginia

February 17, Tuesday

Five hours and thirty minutes after the
assassination…

Travis
pulled in Sam’s drive, sighed, and cut the engine. Damn, he couldn’t remember
when he’d ever felt so drained or worried. Sam, his Sam was in trouble, whether
she realized it or not. “I know you don’t like it, but I’m staying.”

Sam
twisted in the seat, facing him.

Yeah,
her face plainly said she didn’t like it one bit. Too bad.

“No,
you aren’t,” she replied. “Go home.”

“You
might be the boss, Sam, but we’re talking about your life here. Until this thing
is resolved, I’m staying right here. So deal with it.”

She
glared, but he knew her, knew her glares. This one meant even though she didn’t
want to admit it, she was secretly glad he was remaining on guard in her
driveway, even if she mouthed the opposite. Which she did. “I don’t want you
here, and I’m not inviting you in.”

Perhaps
he’d misread her? He shrugged. “I understand. You don’t want to take the risk I
might see Hayley.”

“I’m
not risking anything. There’s no question about it. You aren’t going to see
Hayley.”

“Right
now, you’re the one who matters.”

“No.”
She shook her head.

“Look, Sam, you have to face the fact that an unknown
assailant shot up your office floor. For God’s sake, we have no idea why, or
who the shooter was after, but to murder five guards leaves little doubt he
means business.”

“Shooter?”
Sam brushed a strand of dark hair out of her eyes. “You think there was only
one who did all that?”

“Yes,
at least inside the building. If there’d been two inside, both Flayme and Jayla
would be dead. I’d say there was one in and one or two out.”

“I
can’t believe any of this is happening,” she said. “It’s insane.”

“Agreed.
They did a real number. We have no clue who the perp was after. We know the
first lady is dead and the president has gone into seclusion.”

She
snorted. “You mean he’s hiding.”

“He’s
the country’s leader. He isn’t hiding. He’s being protected.”

“He
—
”

“Forget
him. He has nothing to do with this. Us.”

“There
is no
us
.”

“Oh,
baby, there’s been an
us
since the
first time I kissed you. You can hide all you want, Sam, but it isn’t going
away.
I’m
not going away. If Hayley
is mine, all the better, but I don’t give a shit if she belongs to David. What
matters is that you belong to me.”

“No,
I don’t.”

“What
the hell is wrong with you? Do you think I’d ever hurt you? Hit you the way
David did?”

“You’re
a man. Yes, I think you’d hurt me. Hit me.”

“Then
you don’t know me.”

“No,
I don’t know you. Just because we had sex once, doesn’t mean I want to repeat
it, or that I know you.”

“No,
my bad.”

“Yes.”

“Sam,
understand one thing, baby. We didn’t have sex. What we did had more meaning.”

“Only
in your mind.”

Travis held up his hands in surrender. “Damn, woman, why
don’t you just stab me in the foot? Okay. Have it your way.”
For now.

“So
you can go home.”

He
shook his head. “Nice try. I get it. You want this to remain strictly
business.” Travis scowled. “Fine with me. We know your secretary was shot at,
and possibly Jayla Ross. There’s blood near the elevators and more blood in the
parking lot. We know one of those ladies was hurt, possibly seriously injured.
Until you hear back from Duel, and discover if Flayme was the one shot or not,
I’m here to stay.”

“I’m
sure if Flayme was the one hit, Duel would have called me.”

“Maybe.
He isn’t thinking straight. The man’s bushed. You should never have called him
to duty.”

Her
lips tightened. “I needed him here, and now you see why. Everything’s gone to
hell in just a matter of hours. In the morning, statements will have to go out
to the press. It’s gonna get hairy.”

“From
the way things have gone down, you might need him worse, and he’s in piss-poor
shape.”

“Don’t
tell me how to do my job, Travis. Ever. The first lady needed protecting.”

“Huh.
And look how well we did our job.”

“What
happened wasn’t our fault. We were off-duty by the time she was assassinated.”

“You
think the Secret Service is going to take the fall for this one?”

“Yes,
they are. It’s their job to keep the president and his family safe…
at all
times.”

“Then
why the hell were we doing their job?”

“We weren’t. It was a personal favor. Nothing more. Molly
wanted some me time. I lost a friend tonight, possibly three, because I have no
idea if Jayla or Flayme is dead or alive.” Her voice broke. “Go home, Travis.”

“I’m not going home.” He looked away because God knew he
couldn’t bear seeing her cry. “I won’t come inside, unless I’m invited.”

Sam fumbled with the door handle. “Don’t hold your
breath.”

“Honey, I stopped holding my breath where you’re concerned
years ago.”

“You’re going to stay in my car all night?” She frowned.

“What all night? It’ll be daylight in a couple of hours.
You can call me a cab when you wake up.”

“I don’t have to like it,” she uttered.

“No, you sure as hell don’t. But I’m not budging. Lock the
door behind you.”

Sam lifted a brow.

“Your house door.”

“I always do.” Ice crunched under her heels. “Damn it,
it’s freezing and you want to hang out in my driveway? You need to get a life,
Travis.”

“Sam!”

She whirled. “Yes?” she breathed.

Travis hesitated, then shook his head. “Nothing. Good-night.”

Sam gave him one last hasty glance, saw him settle deeper
inside his coat and frowned. “You’re going to freeze your ass off.”

“My choice.”

“It is.”

* * * *

Twenty
minutes later, Sam jerked open the car door, thrust several blankets and a
thermos of coffee at him. Wide-eyed, Travis stared at her. “You’re very kind.”

Her lips twitched. She hadn’t asked for his protection.
But she’d accepted it for Hayley’s sake. There was no way she’d risk her
daughter’s life and he knew it. If that meant he slept in her driveway every
night, then Travis knew she wouldn’t voice any more objections.

“I
might have ice water in my veins, but I couldn’t go to sleep knowing you’re out
here in my car, freezing.”

“Thank
you. As I said, you’re very kind.”

“Kindness
has nothing to do with it,” she snapped. “Think of all the paper work I’d have
to do if you freeze to death in my driveway. If anything happens, be sure and
let me know,” she finished briskly.

He
lifted a brow. “I’ll shoot off my gun.”

Color
crept up her face. She glared at him. “You’re so not funny.”

“Huh.
A bullet in the air? Something wrong with that message?” He grinned.

“You
know what you can do with your gun
—
”

“I
know
what I’d like to do with it, but you
—
”

“Nothing
is ever happening between us
again, Travis.”

“Oh,
things have been happening between us for quite some time now. You just choose
to ignore them.”

“Oooh!
Just honk the damn horn if
there’s a problem,” she replied through clenched teeth.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She slammed the door and stalked away, her back straight
and rigid. A grin tugged at Travis’ lips. The blankets were a godsend. He
snuggled beneath their warmth inhaling her floral scent inside the folds of
soft wool.

The emptiness left his heart.

This was sheer bliss. Her scent all around him
—
why, he was happy as a bee pollinating
flowers. He’d like to do some pollinating, all right. Swear to God, if he
didn’t bury his cock inside Sam soon, he was going to
explode, in more
ways than one.

She was weakening. He knew it. Felt it. No way could she
continue to resist him. Yeah, she wanted him, as much as he wanted her. She was
just too dang stubborn to admit it. His grin widened, then he whistled softly
and poured a steaming cup of coffee from the thermos. Smacking his lips, he
chuckled. If he had room, he’d dance a jig. “She loves me. One day soon, I’ll
make her admit it.” He took a sip from the thermos cup. “Ahh. Perfect.”

Coffee never tasted better.

*
* * *

O
hio

Motor Lodge Motel

February 17, Tuesday

Eight hours after the assassination...

“This
is so not good.” Flayme puffed a lock of hair out of her eyes and released an
agitated breath.

The reverberation of soft snores filled the air close to
her ears.
Damn the cowboy!
Damn the
cowboy who claimed he
wasn’t
a
cowboy! And maybe he wasn’t one, but he sure had the heart and soul of one.

Or
maybe he just possessed the heart and soul of an outlaw. Whatever he was, he
concealed everything behind those icy green eyes of his and his tight lips.
Emotions? She was pretty sure if he’d ever possessed them, they were long dead
and buried.

There
was only one thing she needed from the man beside her, and it wasn’t the royal
screwing he’d promised her if she didn’t shut up and go to sleep. He seemed to
think all she was capable of thinking about was having sex with him. Well, she
was pretty darn sure it was he who was thinking about sex with her.
She
didn’t think about it—not much
anyway.

Watching
him now, she studied his breathing pattern.

Was he asleep or wasn’t he?

She
didn’t trust her judgment or the fact he might be faking it just to make her
look like an idiot. Beneath her breath, she counted off the slow moving minute
hand on her watch. “One Mississippi-two Mississippi-t
hree Mississi
―
” a
groan. This was getting
her nowhere.

Flayme had waited for what felt like forever for the
stubborn agent to close his eyes. Yeah, she’d waited, but God was she fed up
with stalling. Sooner or later, she had to make her move.

Startled
when he suddenly moved in his sleep, she bit her cheek to keep from screaming
when he rolled closer to her. Crap! Delaying only stretched her nerves to the
snapping point. She smothered the urge to snort. As if her nerves weren’t
already on the edge of cracking like an egg.

Waiting
any longer to attempt an escape wasn’t going to accomplish a thing. “So, it
might as well be now,” she muttered beneath her breath.
Go for
it, Flayme, before you
lose the thread of courage you have left.

One
shot, that’
s
all she’d get. If she was lucky, maybe that’s all she’d need. And if she was
very lucky, maybe, just maybe, the agent had truly fallen to sleep a lot sooner
than she thought
—
or
into a coma. Yeah, a nice coma would be great.

With that damnable Stetson cocked low over his eyes, it was
impossible to tell if his lids were even twitching.
“Not a cowboy, my ass,”
she smirked. Then why the hell did he walk,
talk, and dress like one? In her experience, if it walked like a duck—a cowboy
he was.

Maybe
he thoug
ht
he was God’s gift to the CIA, but in reality
—
shit, in reality
—
he
was the kind of man that made a woman’s heart beat faster, made her body tingle
and her breasts ache.

Oh
yeah, for sure, she was ready to escape, before she made an absolute ass of
herself, threw her hot, throbbing body on top of his, and insist he have his
wicked way with her. The man lacked supreme patience when it came to her. Not
that she blamed him. Stabbing him hadn’t exactly made her his new best friend.

Tension
spasmed along her spine, her nerves tightened like a pair of guitar strings
until she thought she’d snap from the strain racking her body. Doubts assailed
her. Maybe she’d better wait a couple more minutes, then try to escape.

A
satisfied smile tweaked her lips. Inside, she was a bundle of burned-out
nerves. Outside, she felt gloriously capable. Heck, she was proficient. He
might be a tough hombre, but she was woman, and as the saying went—
hear me roar
. She’d make him rue the day
he ever took her prisoner!

This
would work. It
had
to work.

And
the thing that made it different, made it possible to succeed this time, Flayme
thought with excitement, was the little fact she had access to his car keys.

Rather
dumb on his part
—
at
least in her opinion
—
for
the cowboy to leave them in
plain sight on the nightstand beside him.
The keys. Temptation City with a capital T. C.

The
man had known exactly the thoughts racing through her head when he left them
there. The devil. He’d looked at her and grinned when he dropped them near the
bedside lamp, a silent challenge for her to go for them, if she felt lucky.
Well, she felt damn lucky. She could escape, if she managed to free herself
from him and the cuffs.
Drat the man!

Of
course, he’d made darn certain the key to the manacles were in the far pocket
of his jeans, just out of her reach. Okay. Flayme took a deep breath to fortify
her nerve, and turned onto her right side. Not the most comfortable position,
but manageable. However, it practically buried her nose against the left side
of his manly chest.