Cheating Justice (The Justice Team) (25 page)

Mitch Monroe unleashed. Who knew? With every layer she peeled back, she found more. And worse, she’d misjudged him. Horribly. “I didn’t know. Back then. I didn’t know you felt this way. I’m sorry.”

“Well, now you know. The new Mitch Monroe. The one who talks about his feelings. Here I am and I can’t do a replay of the night-that-never-was. If you want to start again, yeah, I’m all for it, but you’d damned well better be in it for the long haul. I’m a federal fugitive and you’d be laying your future on the line. If we do this and you walk away from me again, after losing Tommy and Kemp, I swear to God, Caroline, I will never recover. I need you, but I won’t risk that. I’ll leave right now. It would be the hardest damned thing I’ve ever done—and that’s saying something—but I’ve been on the run long enough. I want my life back. When this is done, whatever happens, I’m done running.”

“I love you,” she said.

The words tumbled out, in a rush, without thought or a willingness to stop them.

He shook his head. “You said that before.”

She reached for him, but he stepped back, putting distance between them. “Yes. And it’s not the drugs. On the-night-that-never-was, you terrified me. It was so good that it was scary good. And I’m talking about the sex. Sex that good doesn’t happen unless there’s trust and affection. There’s a purity to it. You know what I’m talking about. I know you do.”

“That’s what I’m saying. We’re good together. On all levels. But being with me will wreck your career.”

“Only if this goes bad.”

“Which it probably will.”

Finally she grabbed hold of him, gripped his forearms. “Then screw it. Let it go bad. We’ll figure this out. Together. I have no idea what’ll happen, but I’m here. Right now. I’m here. I’d have never done this a year ago. Never. But I know what I want now and somehow, my job doesn’t matter.” She yanked him forward. “So quit talking and screw me blind.”

She kissed him, hard, the way she remembered it from last time and he finally gave in and smacked his hands over her ass, dragging her closer—skin-to-skin close, letting her feel the press of his erection against her.

I love him.
For so long, she’d fought it. Knowing it and acknowledging it were different. Opposites that couldn’t quite come together. Now…now the ends came together.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, slowed the pace of the kiss. Not this time. This time they’d go slow. She’d waited too long for him, for the
experience
of him.

Pulling back, she nipped at his bottom lip. “I want slow.”

“We still have a lot to do and not much time.”

“We can’t do anything with those files until morning. Until we find out what happens in that meeting with Donaldson and the others.”

“So, we’ve got the rest of the night and I’m used to no sleep.”

“Good. Because after we’re done in here, I’ve got my eye on that lake. I want what I didn’t get last night.”

Mitch laughed. “Oh, you’ll get it, Caroline. You’ll get it.”

She loves me
.

How was that possible? After everything he’d put her through, after the way he’d treated her. Bottom line, how could anyone love him in his current state?

Caroline’s legs went around Mitch’s hips, her arms wound around his neck. He carried her to the bunk bed, kissing her along the way. They didn’t quite fit, but it didn’t matter. Like two lusty teenagers in the backseat of a car, they contorted their bodies to accommodate each other without missing a beat. Setting her butt on the cheap mattress, he kept kissing her and went to work on getting his clothes off. Caroline helped, her fingers undoing his belt as he shucked off his T-shirt.

She loves me
.

She said she wanted slow, and he did too. He wanted to draw out their time together and revel in the feel of her, the taste. But like always, the moment they were skin-to-skin, that searing sexual chemistry between them became nitrous oxide.
One damn fine explosion coming up.

His belt was loose, his zipper down, and Caroline’s hand went for the gold, slipping inside his briefs and taking hold. But she didn’t yank or squeeze. She tickled him, the mere touch of her fingernails against his erection nearly sending him over the edge.

He plucked a condom from a pocket before his jeans hit the floor. Yes, he’d bought a couple of condoms from the dispenser in the mall restroom, and thank the good Lord in Heaven he had. She took the one in his hand and tore open the package. In seconds, he was sheathed. Caroline removed her conservative button-down, letting the edges slide over her shoulders and down her arms. She spread her legs and leaned back to grab the opposite edge of the bed.

Wanton.
That was the look she sent him, her dancing eyes as tantalizing as her tickling, teasing fingers.

With their next kiss, Mitch entered her. Not fast and hard, but slow…inch by hard inch.

Caroline scooted forward, heels digging into his ass cheeks trying to speed things up.
Slow, huh?
He grinned against her lips.

“What?” she said, bucking against him.

He held perfectly still, refusing to give in to her body’s demands. “I want to make this last, remember?”

“I know, but…but…” She was moving again and closing her eyes. “Oh, God, you feel so good.”

“Caroline?”

“
What
?”

“Open your eyes and look at me.”

Her lashes flew open, the dark orbs of her eyes animalistic. “I know what I said, but I changed my mind. I need it fast and hard and…well, fast.”

She grabbed his ass cheeks, goading him to move. He took her by the wrists and wrangled her upper body so it was pinned down on the bed.

“Hey,” she complained, her dark hair fanning out against the white of her shirt lying under her.

“Let go, Caroline. Relax. Let me do the work.”

Miss Control Freak resisted for a moment, then arched her back, shifting her pelvis to take him deeper. “Mitch,
please
.”

Begging? Or bitching? At least she wasn’t fighting. He caught both of her wrists with one hand and pinned them above her head. With his free hand, he massaged one breast and then the other. At the same time, he set up a slow, leisurely rhythm.

“Damn you,” she whispered, but her eyes stayed locked on his the way he wanted.

“You’ve already damned me to hell and back, Caroline. Why don’t you give up that precious control and just enjoy the ride?”

She rolled her hips, taking him deeper. His body defied his mind, wanting her. All of her. Against his will, his rhythm picked up. He gritted his teeth, hanging on for control. Damn woman. He was breathing hard and he hadn’t even gotten a good start on her.

Releasing her wrists, he grabbed her hips instead and held them still, lowering his mouth to one of her nipples. She squirmed but moaned as his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud. Drawing it into his mouth, he sucked it between his teeth, gently. Her hips surged.

Tightening his hold, he gave proper attention to her other breast for a long minute. She cussed him again, but laughed, too, and finally, he felt her let go.
Really
let go.

Her legs spread wider, giving him fuller, deeper access. Her hands swept into his hair, pulling his face to hers so she could kiss his lips.

She loves me
.

Mitch plunged deep, taking all she offered. She met him stroke for stroke, until a few seconds later, her orgasm broke over her and she yelled his name into the night.

Hearing his name on her lips, he followed her over the brink.

Forget the support group. Caroline didn’t need it. Nope. Experiencing the glory of a New Mexico sunrise over the lake with Mitch after a healthy orgasm was definitely the way to go.

Caroline tilted her head back as streaks of purple and orange splayed across a sky dotted with clouds, each one stacked against the other in an endless layer. No artist could create such magnificence. Impossible.

From behind her, Mitch snaked his arm under hers and held out his hand. “You didn’t drop that soap, did you?”

“Nope.”

She smacked it into his hand. Day three of their trip and the heat wouldn’t let up. They’d stepped into the lake at 6:30 and the temperature had already hit eighty degrees. And without the use of a washer, Caroline was now out of what Mitch called her Bureau-wear. Today would be a jeans and tank top day. Unless they found a Laundromat.

“Don’t hog that soap,” she said. “I’ve got about ten layers of grime.”

“Oh, that’s romantic.”

Caroline snorted. “Do you want a smelly girl?”

The look he gave her—mischievous and playful—should have been her first warning. He snatched his arm out again, grabbed her around the waist and tossed her sideways. She hit the water in a splash and came up sputtering.

“Really?” She wiped water from her face. “You want to play?”

“I do,” he said.

Then she was on him, trying—and failing—to push him under.

“You’ll never win, Caroline. I’m taller. I can stand here.”

“Damn you, Mitch Monroe.”

She shoved away from him, gave a little splash, and continued to soap up, a relentless happiness buzzing inside.
This is no time to be happy
. “I like starting the day like this. When this is over, we should become adventure travelers. See the world. Hop from country to country.”

He handed her back the soap. “And live on what?”

“Look at you suddenly all Mr. Technicality. I’m the one usually being the spoilsport.”

He grinned. “You must be rubbing off on me.”

What a tragedy that would be. She soaped up her legs, scrubbing as hard as she could. What she needed was a loofah. “Donaldson’s meeting is at eight. We’ve got some time to kill. Let’s look through the rest of that thumb drive. How much was on there?”

“I went through a few files, but there are a bunch more. We need a printer. Something tells me they’re all part of a timeline we need to build.”

“God, I love when you talk like that.”

“I know you do. It’s all part of my grand plan to brainwash you into being my love slave.”

Little did he know the brainwashing might already be complete. She glanced back at the morning sky, the sun glinting off the still water. If she could stay here for another hour, life would be perfect. Her, Mitch, the quiet—Mitch quiet?

She laughed at that. Maybe quiet was overrated.

“What’s funny?” he asked.

“Nothing. Let’s get to work.”

Minutes later, she slipped into jeans and her red tank top and stuck her still-wet hair into a ponytail. Mitch stood by the table, his gaze on her, creating heat that made the temperature outside look like an arctic freeze.

“Damn, you look good,” he said.

She glanced down. “You might need glasses.”

“I’ve never seen you like this.” He motioned his hands up and down. “Jeans.”

“Oh, stop it. You’ve never seen me in jeans? That’s ridiculous.”

“No, Caroline. I haven’t. You’re always in Bureau-wear.”

She stopped, thought about that a second. As much as she hated to admit it, he could be right. In their time together, she’d been so uptight about being seen as a professional—one of the guys—she’d never considered wearing anything but work clothes around Mitch. Particularly around Mitch. With him, her goal had always been to keep her clothes on. Her business suits insured they kept things on a professional level.

At least until they hadn’t.

Sigh.

She walked to him, tugged on his T-shirt, and kissed him quickly. “Well then, I suppose you’ve broken me. Now, let’s get to work, Studly.”

He winked. “There’s only one chair. We’ll have to share.”

“Fine with me, we shared a hell of a lot more than that last night.”

Mitch laughed as he sat, pulling Caroline onto his lap, the movement so casual like a couple who’d been practicing for years. She smiled at him, enjoying the moment of lightness before they dove into the hell that had been Tommy Nusco’s life. Or at least what was left of it.

Mitch was already clicking files though, focused on the screen. “I left off here.”

A scanned email popped on the screen and Caroline sat forward. “Okay, we’ve got an ATF document. Looks like an internal memo.”

Mitch leaned in and the two of them silently read.
Department of Justice. Strategy. Straw purchases of assault weapons. Allowed.

Whoa.

“Holy shit,” Mitch said.

Holy shit was right. Caroline went back to the top of the document and read it again. Her shoulders and chest locked and stinging prickles shot up her neck.
Bastards.
According to the memo, the Department of Justice was on board with the taskforce strategy. Which meant George Atkinson, the New Mexico U.S. Attorney and an arm of the Attorney General and the Justice Department, knew about the taskforce’s activities.

“They knew,” Mitch said. “The sons of bitches knew and they let it happen.”

Something nagged at her, poked at her about some report she’d read—was it a report? Her mind went back a few months. Was it only a few? Maybe more.
They let it happen.