Spy Games (16 page)

I kissed the top of his head while he kissed my breasts. My feet left the floor and my legs wound their way around his waist. I wanted to ride him hard and good and he knew it. We arched and tangled until we tumbled onto the bed with him on top.

My cami came off. His shirt fell away.

I was so turned on, I ached. Ached with yearning. Ached for fulfillment. Ached to have him.

And then, in the heat of the moment, a panic began to build. A rapid heartbeat that had nothing to do with lust or desire or love. I tried to ignore it, but it grew, spreading to my stomach, throwing my heart’s rhythm out of sync until I feared I’d hyperventilate. I heard Ket’s voice in the back of my mind threatening to kill any man he caught me with. I saw Van morph into a madman like Ket.

“Reilly?” Van stopped and was staring at me. “Are you okay?”

I was trembling. “He said he’d kill anyone who…”

Van held me. “He won’t kill me.”

I looked up at him, hoping he was right. “He’d kill over a look, over sitting next to me at lunch.”

“Then I’m too far gone already.”

I clutched his arm. “Don’t say that.”

“I mean, in his sick mind, I’ve crossed the line.” He smoothed the hair back out of my face. “This isn’t going to change anything.”

“I’m not the kind of girl who falls into the sack with just anyone. I can’t be.”

He looked me in the eye and tried to lighten the mood. “You want me to respect you in the morning?”

I spoke in a rush, my words tumbling over themselves. “I don’t want him to kill you. I don’t want you to go all psycho, stalker committed to me. I don’t…” I tried not to cry. “I wish I were different. I’m sorry. I’m not accusing you.” I paused. When I spoke, my voice was very tiny. “I’m scared.”

He rolled off me and ran his hands through his hair, fighting for control. Van’s look clouded and he did that swearing under his breath thing. He was frustrated. We both were. We both hated Ket.

“Would you like a background check? I could arrange it.” He was still trying to cheer me up, make me feel less like a jerk and a tease.

“Yeah, maybe.” I forced a nervous laugh and clutched his arm. “I’m sorry. I really am. I like you, Van. I like you very much.”

“Don’t be. But FYI, the background check thing will take a few days.” His tone was very gentle. He was giving me time. He was willing to wait.

He handed me my cami.

I couldn’t get comfortable. I could
not
sleep. Not with Van next to me. Not with frustration and guilt and sexual desire acting like a major dose of caffeine in my system. Just because I was a wacko and afraid of my own shadow didn’t mean the need subsided.

Next door some deaf jerk was watching a movie on mega volume. I wanted to feel safe and secure next to Van, but there was a definite gulf between us. I was afraid he was mad. And I felt bad. I didn’t like mad. I liked Van. I really liked Van.

Curled up behind me, facing away from me, Van wasn’t sleeping, either. And it wasn’t my tossing and turning that was necessarily keeping him up.

I rolled over, facing his back. “I can’t sleep.”

“What?” Van asked, first looking back over his shoulder, and finally rolling to face me.

“I can’t sleep. You don’t have an Excedrin PM on you, do you?”

“No. Sorry.”

“Oh, well.” I shrugged.

“I could run out to the all-night Rite Aid down the street?”

“No.”

“No?”

There was a hideous silence. “The boogeyman.”

“Oh, yeah. Him.”

“And Cindy Lou Goon.”

“Sure.”

I tried to frame my thoughts. “Earlier, you stopped. You stopped when I wanted you to.”

His look was a mixture of anger and pity. I didn’t like it. He thought I was wounded, damaged goods. And I was. I expected him to say so. I didn’t think I could stand hearing it. I tensed.

Seeing my look of apprehension, Van nodded toward the bat by my side of the bed. “Well, with Old Slugger there, what could I do?”

“You have a gun on your side.”

“Yeah, but you’re a former college fastpitch starter. I figure Old Slugger is equal force.”

At that moment, I thought I could love a man like him. The earlier panic had disappeared, replaced by a sense of safety.

I slid into him and threw my leg over his hip so that we were locked together, his rod to my hot spot. “You’re poking me,” I whispered to him.

“Sorry. I have sharp elbows.”

“It’s not your elbows.” We both knew what I was talking about.

He gave me a questioning look.

“I’m saying, I don’t think a background check is really necessary.”

“You don’t?”

“No. We’re basically in spy training.”

“Yeah.”

“And spies, like Mata Hari, have to be able to do it with complete strangers at the drop of a hat.”

“True. Where are you going with this?”

“Well, you aren’t a complete stranger.”

“No. You’ve known me for a whole day and a half.” His tone was cautiously optimistic.

“Yes, well. The more I thought about things, the more I realized how irrational I’ve been. I already have a steroid stalker, various unsavory types, and possibly the Mafia after me. On the off chance you are a psycho, how much more real danger could I be in?” I touched his cheek. “Besides, you’re a man with restraint. And compassion. Restraint and compassion are excellent character references.”

Van ran his hands through my hair. “Are you really ready?”

“Oh, I’m ready. Believe me. I’d like to try some bona fide spy sex right here, right now. A real Mata Hari act.”

“Mata Hari was a renowned temptress.” He grinned and bent over to kiss me.

“Yeah, I know.”

The sex we had was phenomenal. So phenomenal we slept tangled together through a wake-up call and an alarm. We barely woke when Steve pounded on the door.

“Hey, buddy, you coming? You’d better drag your ass out of bed before you miss breakfast.”

Van opened his eyes, glanced at the clock, and sprung up. “I’ll be down in a few,” he called out to Steve while I cowered under the covers, a demure little thing.

Steve’s footsteps receded. Van turned to me. “If we hurry, we have time for a quick shower. I’ll go check out your room and make sure it’s clear so you can get cleaned up over there.”

“You mean shower over there?” I said.

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’m not showering over there. I’ve seen
Psycho
.”

“Okay, I’ll shower over there.”

“Not safe, either.”

“There’s no time for two showers, one after the other. So, you’re saying?” His eyes lit with anticipation.

I ran my fingers lightly down his arm until he shivered. “I need a shower buddy. Shower buddies would definitely be safer. No one is ever killed while showering with someone else.” I grinned and put on my flirty look.

“Do shower buddies get benefits?”

“Shower buddies definitely get benefits.” I leaned over and kissed him. “I have Cinnamon Bun Bliss three-in-one bath gel and a fluffy, white bath scrubby Mom gave me that I’m willing to share.”

“Those aren’t the benefits I was thinking of.”

I kissed him again, deeper this time. “Think wet, naked bodies, water droplets, bubbles, lather…”

“Let’s get in the shower, Mata.”

Ten minutes later, we were out of the shower and I was French braiding my hair. There was no time for a blow-dry. We could have been faster in the shower, but there were those hot, steamy, hard, slick quickie benefits I’d promised. Sometimes, quick can be fantastic. We were both smiling like idiots as we put on our camo.

“That Cinnamon Bliss tingles the skin and smells great,” Van said as he pulled on his black T-shirt, “but it tastes like soap. That’s false advertising.”

I smiled indulgently at him. “Of course it tastes like soap. It is soap. I can’t believe you didn’t know that.”

“How would I know that? I’m a regular spring fresh, bar soap kind of guy.” Then he grinned. “I’m not complaining. You tasted good.” He grabbed his gun and holster.

I looked down and smiled. “You’re taking your gun to camp?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No,” I said.

He shrugged. “What about Old Slugger?”

“I’m giving him the day off. He can stay here and lounge around the pool, picking up lady life rings.”

“Lucky bastard. Make me proud, Old Slugger. Get a little ring for me.” Van smiled at me and headed toward the door. “You coming?”

“I am, but I can’t go out your door. What would people think?” Meaning Ket, of course.

“Sure. I forgot.” He walked me to the adjoining door, pushed it open and scanned the room for intruders. “All clear.”

“Good.” I put my hand on his arm. “V?”

“Yeah.”

“About today—I’m worried. How can I act normally around the guys now that I know what I know? What will I say to Peewee?”

“Ignore him.”

“You can’t just ignore a mobster.”

Van shrugged. “Try.”

“He could off me.”

“Why? He hasn’t so far.” Spoken like a true guy. “Concentrate on the other guys. Or, better yet, me.” He flashed that grin that turned me on.

“You? I like that idea.” I smiled at him. “You I can handle.”

“Can you?”

“I can certainly give it my all.” I lowered my voice to sultry. “Why are we even going back to camp today? Especially when we can stay back at the hotel and…enjoy each other.”

Van looked tempted, but something changed his mind. He took my face in his hand. “Very tempting, but we’ve both spent thousands of dollars to attend this camp.”

I stuck out my pouty lip. “Is money all that matters?”

“No,” he said gently. “Spending time with you would be worth every penny I paid for camp. But you need to go and get your training. Especially now.”

I sighed, resigned. He was right.

“I promise you more fun later.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

I tightened my grip on his arm. “What about Cliff? And Jim?”

“Hey, slow down.” He put his finger on my lips to silence me. “None of those accusations against them have been proven. Give them the benefit of the doubt.”

I pulled his finger away. I was turning into a first-class worrier. Well, why not? I’d been raised by one.

“Not yet,” I said. “But everything points to them being true.”

Van grabbed the hand that was holding his arm and squeezed it. “Don’t think about it, R. Just forget it. Neither of us have the dongle. Neither of us want it. This isn’t our game.”

I stared up at him. I was still scared and my look must have conveyed it.

“I’ll watch your backside,” he said.

“You better.”

“Believe me, it’s no hardship.”

We missed breakfast and had to settle for leftover gingerbread without sauce. We made the bus, flagging it down just as it started to pull away from the curb without us.

There were only five of us. Huff was still missing. I had conflicted feelings about that. On the one hand, I’d liked Huff. The man was a charmer. On the other, I wanted to kill him for involving me in the whole dongle mess.

Peewee was also absent. Either Cindy Lou Goon wasn’t so easy to track down or Peewee had lost a fight to the death with Goon. Other than loss of human life in general being a sad business, I wouldn’t have been overly upset if they’d each offed the other and the dongle had fallen to the bottom of Puget Sound.

After some initial speculation about Peewee, no one spoke the remainder of the trip, which was fine with me. The morning was foggy, but the weatherman was promising another sunny, unseasonably warm day once the fog burned off at midday. I couldn’t see the mountains in either direction. The trip seemed to exist in a time warp.

When we pulled up to the warehouse, the news crews were gone. But the horror remained. At least for me. Several trucks from a well-known security company were parked out front. I walked past them, trying not to think what they meant.

Inside the warehouse, the mock city was cordoned off with crime scene tape. FSC had hired two security guys to guard the scene. War led us past the mock city to a gymlike room out back. I walked past the guards without looking at them.

We spent the morning learning close quarter battle (CQB) techniques, and playing with the simulator. It may have been my imagination, but Steve kept staring at me. He approached me at the break in the hall as I headed to the ladies’ room, grabbing me by the arm as I tried to walk off.

“You wouldn’t be trying to cheat me out of half of the reward for the dongle, would you?”

I stared at him, rage building beneath the surface. I was already jumpy. I didn’t need Steve on my case. “I gave ‘the dongle’”—I made quote marks in the air with my fingers—“if that’s what it was, to the goon who jumped me and threatened to slice my neck end to end. While you sat sipping a drink totally oblivious to my peril, I might add.” I shook his arm loose. “I’m not a fool. When a knife-wielding maniac says, ‘the dongle or your life,’ I choose life.” I stalked off to the ladies’ room.

Lunch was another quiet affair. MREs, this time eaten inside in the staff kitchen. I sat next to Van, admiring him and remembering bubbles and his slick, hard body. It was hard not to.

In the afternoon, we returned to the gym to practice what we’d learned in the morning session.

“Okay, folks, we’re going to partner up and practice subduing and taking down an attacker.” War paced in front of us. “Everyone line up against the wall.”

“Firing squad style,” Van whispered to me. “Nice.”

War stopped pacing front and center of us. “Listen up, CTs, CQB is not a sport. It’s not an art. It’s science balanced with dirty tricks.” War grinned. “Let’s just review a few basics.” His grin deepened. “A knife is always loaded. Boots are for combat; bare feet for bathing. Never drop your guard. Talk reduces your decision and reaction time. Never apply a hold or take down without a dirty trick or distraction. The best prisoner come-along techniques have the prisoner bent, either forward or backward, never upright. Speed and power equal velocity and require a stable platform. And, finally, the basics are only limited by your imagination.” War scanned the group. “Any questions?”

Steve raised his hand. “Can I partner up with R?”

Van shot him a dirty look and Cliff murmured something about wanting me for a partner, too.

“No,” War said. “Any other questions?”

Not to be shut down so easily, Steve hammed it up, waving his hand wildly to be noticed as War struggled to ignore him. Finally, War rolled his eyes. “Yes, S.”

“Can R be my partner?”

War turned to me. “R, since you’re the only female team member and seem to be in popular demand, you may be the first to choose your partner.”

I didn’t even hesitate. “I choose V.”

War’s gaze bounced between Van and me. “V it is.”

Steve scowled. I ignored the twerp. As it turned out, no one wanted him for a partner. Jim chose Cliff. War had to assign Ace to partner with Steve.

Partnering complete, War continued the lesson. “First up, we’ll practice H2H, hand to hand, for you civilians,” War said. “No firearms or explosives allowed. Feel free to use whatever else gives you the advantage.”

The gym floor was covered with mats and divided with masking tape into sparing squares. War assigned us each a square and then issued us all helmets, mouth guards, elbow pads, and kneepads.

“CTs, listen up. Face your partner,” War said. “Look him over good.”

Van’s gaze skimmed my body like he was undressing me.

“Watch it,” I whispered to him.

“He said get a good look.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He didn’t say it couldn’t be indecent.”

War didn’t notice us. He kept talking. “Your partner is the enemy. In this exercise, either you kill him, or he kills you. Each team is standing in a square marked on the floor. You will defend your territory. First one to either take down, or force the other from your square, wins.

“This is a single elimination exercise. The winners of each round will face off. Losers will watch and take note of victorious techniques. Get ready.”

I grinned at Van and he at me.

“Oh, I’m going to take you, big guy,” I whispered to him.

“Sounds good to me.” He tried to disarm me with that charming grin of his.

“You better put up a fight.” I put on my competition face. “I don’t like quitters and I have no sympathy for those who surrender.”

“Not even for those who surrender to their desires?”

“Shut up.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry. If anyone does any taking, it’s going to be me taking you. I like it on top.”