The Seraphina Donavan Collection: Contemporary (10 page)

“I’m not going to just abandon you here,” she hissed. “They’ll kill you.”

“If you don’t, they might kill all of us,” he insisted.

Dixie met his gaze and knew that he meant every word of it. “Why are you doing this?”

“Dixie, when the bureau asks you to do something, they’re not really asking. Refusing makes life hell for you and everyone around you…I just have to say this, and I know it’s probably too late, and I know it’s not the right time, but I love you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Literally. It stuttered in her chest as she looked up at him, hearing the words from him that she’d wanted so badly. “You love me?”

“Yes. And if we get out of here, even though we only dated for a few weeks, it doesn’t matter. I’m going to marry you and you need to just get used to that idea.”

She gulped. “Married? Are you crazy?” No one in her life had ever been willing to marry into the crazy Claiborne family.

“I know what I want and that’s to spend the rest of my life with you…working the most boring job I can possibly find and coming home to you at night.”

That sounded like paradise to her. No one watching them or listening in, unless you put stock in Frankie’s many theories. No guns either and the only people who would be getting tied to beds was either her or Nick and it would be entirely voluntarily. It was a risk, but the reward was so worth it. Taking a deep breath, she gave him her answer, “I love you too, and I’d marry you right now, if I could.”

When he kissed her, Dixie felt it all the way to her toes. Whether it was the adrenaline, or just the monumental nature of the moment they’d just shared, she couldn’t say, but that kiss rocked her to her soul.

When the kiss broke, Nick pulled back and whispered, “My good luck charm.”

“Don’t die today, okay?”

“Ditto.”

Entering their hotel room, neither spoke. They dressed quickly, Dixie donning capri pants and comfy flats with a simple t-shirt. Nick donned one of his many costumes. The white jumpsuit with a thunderbird design on the back in silver and turquoise was a bit of a shock. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a show at two, remember?”

Of course, and if he was seen in costume rather than street clothes, that would be less suspicious. It was definitely not low profile though. Watching as he combed his hair back into the traditional Elvis style, Dixie shook her head. “My life is just weird as hell sometimes.”

Nick grinned, the moment of levity easing the tension in both of them.

It took five minutes and they were back out the door. Dixie checked her watch. It was nearly one o’clock. Back in Frankie and Irma’s room, they discovered the unthinkable. The goon was passed out cold.

“What the hell happened?” Nick asked.

“The haldol kicked in earlier than we expected,” Frankie explained. “It’s only been twenty minutes. Lightweight!”

“We don’t know where the laptop is and without him, we’re screwed,” Dixie shot back.

Nick shook his head. “I think I know where it is, but it’s going to be tricky…and we’ve got to take him in, and there’s no way in hell I can pack him down the stairs.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem,” Irma said. “I already called the front desk and they’re sending up a wheel chair for us to use.”

Dixie felt a reassuring squeeze of her hand before Nick let go and headed out. “Get the car, Dixie. And don’t wait. Take him with you. There’s a field office in Memphis where you can turn him in. Ask for SAC Thompson.”

“Be careful!” she called out.

CHAPTER SIX

N
ick didn’t creep down the hall. He was wearing a white bell-bottom jumpsuit with a gigantic thunderbird emblazoned across his back. Creeping wasn’t an option. Instead, he walked right down the hall as if he was expected. There were no guards outside Mahoney’s suite for a change. One was unconscious and he didn’t know what had happened to the other one, but he could only assume he was incapacitated in some way.

Using the keycard that Frankie had taken from the goon’s jacket pocket, he let himself in. As far as suites at the Viva went, Mahoney had taken the prime one for himself. His own suite had consisted of a small kitchen area and a loveseat, but Mahoney’s boasted a separate living and dining room, not to mention a broad expanse of windows.

Heading straight for the bedroom, he opened the closet and saw the door to the safe. He had a good idea what the combination would be, but that was all. Punching in the code, he felt a moment’s thrill as the light on the door went from red to green. Pulling it open, he grabbed the laptop bag.

His heart kept racing so fast, his pulse pounding in his ears so loudly, that he almost didn’t hear the door to the suite opening. Some sixth sense alerted him. Easing into the closet, he shut the door behind him and watched through the slats as Mahoney entered.

He was on the phone and obviously angry. “Just keep Danova in the dark for a few more days, then I’ll have enough to cover the loss…It doesn’t matter how, dammit… Look, you give me three days and the money will be back in the account with none the wiser.”

The call ended abruptly, the other party having obviously hung up. Mahoney threw the phone, sending it crashing into the wall where it shattered.

Holding his breath, Nick prayed for all he was worth.

Mahoney stripped off his suit jacket, loosened his tie and began to unbutton his shirt. Then, he finally wandered, mostly naked, into the bathroom.

It was not anything Nick cared to see. Hoping the older man’s hearing was less than perfect, Nick made a break for it. Opening the closet door, he slipped through the bedroom and out into the living room. When he reached the door of the suite, he pulled it open and walked directly into the path of Mahoney’s other guard.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the guard demanded, pulling his gun.

Nick didn’t hesitate, and while it was a risk he might damage the data, he wasn’t willing to die for it. He threw the laptop, smacking the guard squarely in the face with it.

The man dropped the gun, cupping his nose as it gushed blood. “My nose! You broke my fucking nose!”

Grabbing the bag and the gun, Nick ushered the guard down the hall. Next to the elevator was a large linen closet, with the master key from the other goon, Nick unlocked the door and shoved the guard inside. With the butt of the pistol, he whacked the goon on the back of the head and let him fall. He wouldn’t be out for long, but it might give him a chance to get away.

Not waiting for the elevator and knowing the building was only five stories, he hit the stairwell, racing down toward the lobby. Irma and Frankie were near the front door, goon one wearing a floppy hat and what appeared to be one of Irma’s velour tracksuits, was slumped in the wheel chair and covered with a blanket, looking for all the world to be an obese elderly women.
They were fucking geniuses
.

The Honda pulled up out front, Dixie in the driver’s seat looking tense and worried. Irma and Frankie pushed the wheelchair out front, Nick moved casually toward the door, ignoring the tourists taking his picture. His feet had just touched the welcome mat when he heard the shouts from behind him. Looking casual wasn’t an option. He broke into a run, tugging the goon up from wheelchair and tossing him into the back seat. Irma and Frankie climbed in, sitting on top of him.

Nick did the thing that always looked so cool when other people did it. He jumped on the hood, sliding across it to reach the passenger side. As his hip connected with the hood, pain exploded in his side. Turns out, hood sliding was much cooler on TV than in real life. In real life, it was dammed painful. It also created the wedgie to end all wedgies.

“So much for the Dukes of Hazzard,” he said, climbing into the car. He didn’t even have the door shut when Dixie floored it. The Honda lurched forward, and in the rearview mirror, he could see a team of agents moving in, disembarking from a large white van that had parked out front.

It was over. Well, mostly over.

Dixie screamed then, the sound filling the car and nearly shattering his ear drum. “What?”

“You’ve been shot, you idiot!”

Nick looked down, blood was seeping into the white fabric at an alarming speed. “Huh,” he said, and then slumped over in his seat, too tired at that point to do anything else.

~*~*~

It’d been hours since Nick passed out in the car. Sitting in the hard plastic chair of the hospitals waiting room, Dixie had never been so exhausted in her life. Irma and Frankie were fast asleep on nearby couches.

Nick’s Special Agent In Charge, an asshole if ever one walked the earth, had taken possession of the prisoner.

“Ms. Claiborne?”

Dixie looked up as the doctor walked towards her. “Yes. How is Nick? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. The bullet missed all vital organs. He’s got some stitches and he did lose quite a bit of blood, but barring any infection, he’ll heal just fine.”

“Can I see him?”

“Of course. They’ve just moved him from recovery to,” the doctor paused to flip through the paperwork he carried, “Room three twelve. Just take those elevators to the third floor and he’ll be down the hall on the right.”

Dixie thanked him and followed his directions. The elevator seemed to take forever. Stepping off onto the third floor, she found his room easily enough. Walking in, she saw him sitting in bed while a nurse flirted with him. “I thought you’d be resting,” she said.

The nurse eyed her suspiciously. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’ll have to go. Family only.”

Dixie smiled, ignoring the snarky ‘ma’am’ thing. “I’m his fiancée.”

Nick opened his eyes and smiled. “I like the way you say that.”

Hearing his voice nearly did her in. Relief hit her and her knees trembled from the force of it. Making her way to the chair next to the bed, she sank gratefully onto it. “Don’t ever do this to me again. If they want to fire you, let them fire you. No more danger. No more undercover. No more getting shot.”

He reached over and took her hand. “Deal…And you. No more vacations with your grandmother and Frankie. Those women are dangerous.”

Dixie laughed. “You have no idea.”

The nurse cleared her throat. “Don’t stay too long. He needs to rest.”

After she left, Dixie said, “I think Nurse Ratchett has the hots for you.”

“Couldn’t care less. The only woman that matters is you…So when are we getting married?”

Dixie smiled. “How about, when you’re up for it, we just fly to Vegas? I think a wedding chapel on the strip is just tacky enough to be perfect for us, don’t you?”

Nick smiled. “You just tell me when to show up.”

Epilogue

N
ick tugged at the bow tie. He felt ridiculous, but hearing Dixie’s champagne fueled giggles, he knew it was worth it. It might have been their wedding day, but Frankie and Irma had been in charge of everything from the Elvis impersonator who performed the ceremony right down to their wardrobes. Which explained why he was wearing a vintage style, jacquard tuxedo a la Elvis and why Dixie’s hair needed its own zip code.

“I look like the bride of frankenstein,” she whined, using the palms of her hands to flatten the gigantic pouf of her dark hair as she stood in front of the mirror. The second she moved her hands, her hair sprang back into place.

“I think we’re just going to have to shave your head. There’s no coming back from what those crazy ass women did to you,” he said, pushing her hair aside to kiss the soft skin of her neck.

“I don’t think so…It’s not so different from how I look after spending a night with you.”

It was true. He couldn’t resist her hair. Winding his fingers through those dark strands, pulling her head back when he kissed her, or god help him, holding onto it when she did all those wicked and wonderful things with her very skilled mouth. For the last two weeks, Irma insisted that Dixie move back into her house. No sex. She
’
d said it would make their wedding night feel special. By special, she’d actually meant sex-starved.

“Well, you’ve made an honest man of me now. The fun is over. Missionary position, in the dark, and no more orgasms…Only the boring and unfulfilling sex of married people. Or so I’m told, by everyone.”

She turned in his arms, her hands sliding over his waist, down to the growing bulge of his erection. “Is that so? Do you really think we’re capable of boring sex?”

He laughed, even as he was reaching for the zipper at the back of her cream, lace dress. “Dixie, I don’t think you’re capable of boring anything. Even oatmeal tastes better when you’re around…and you know how I feel about oatmeal.”

She pushed his hands away and finished unzipping the dress herself. “So romantic. Oatmeal. My goodness, it’s no wonder you stayed so single for so long!”

When she got the dress unfastened, he pushed it from her shoulders, the fabric slithering down to reveal undergarments that he had no name for, but an undying appreciation of. “I’ll never figure out how to get you out of that stuff, but it looks fucking amazing.”

“So don’t get me out of it…Just work around it,” she said, as she pulled him toward the bed.

Nick followed her down onto the mattress, kissing every exposed inch of her skin. By the time he was done, they were both panting and needy. Tugging at the cups of the bustier, he freed one breast and then the other. He laved each nipple in turn, caressing with his tongue, teasing with his teeth. When Dixie gasped and moaned, while he sucked the taut peaks deep into his mouth, he knew he never wanted any woman the way he wanted her. Just the idea that she would be his forever, the enormity of it, simply wouldn’t sink in. “I love you, Dixie. Finding you is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

~*~*~

Dixie stared up at him for a moment, too moved to speak. Finally, she mustered, “I love you too. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to tell you or show you how much…When you were shot, and I didn’t know—those were the longest hours of my life.”

He smiled down at her, looking so unbelievably handsome. “You just need more faith, baby. You’re my good luck charm.”

Dixie couldn’t stop the laugh. “You say that now…you haven’t survived the holidays with Irma and Frankie yet.”

“I don’t really want to talk about Irma and Frankie right now.”

The tone in his voice, low and gravelly, told her just how much he wanted her. Reaching down to the waistband of his pants, she freed the button and then slowly slid the zipper down. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t want to talk at all.”

Dixie closed her hand over him, lifting her hips in invitation. Nick needed very little encouragement. He tugged her panties aside, his fingers coasting over her damp flash for just a moment, and then he was parting her, easing himself into her.

Dixie closed her eyes, her head falling back as she savored the sensation. It felt so perfect, so right to have him inside her. While he began to move, she brought her legs up, locking them around him, drawing him deeper, holding him closer. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, and she arched into him, clinging to him, her hands fisted in the silk of his jacket.

Each stroke as he surged into her ratcheted the tension in her to new heights. Her toes curled, her muscles drawing tight in anticipation. He moved faster, pressing deeper, as his mouth found hers. His teeth scraping gently over her lower lip. Dixie cried out as the pleasure crested, wave after wave coursed through her.

Nick’s body tensed against her and she felt the hot rush of his release. His head dropped forward, resting against her breasts, the sound of their ragged breathing filling the room.

“Well, Mr. Jameson,” she said after a moment, “I think married life is going to suit me just fine.”

He smiled, pressed a kiss against her neck and rolled over onto his back, obviously content. “That’s fine with me, Mrs. Jameson, because I’ve no intention of letting you go.”

NOBODY BUT YOU

Seraphina Donavan