Deadly Odds (21 page)

Which left the other question… “You’re not back with him?”

Damn, he sounded like a putz. Practically whining.

“No. It’s over.”

Ross nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I don’t like myself when we talk about him.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m jealous. And I hate that. I don’t want it. What I want is to sit here with you, get you sprung from this place and take you back to the hotel where you can rest and I can take care of you. We’ll put security at your door, too. Unless you want to go home. I’ll talk to Samuels. Tell him what happened and that you need a few days. We’ll get you security at your house. Whatever you want. I’ll get it for you.”

“Thank you. It’s not necessary though. I’ll be fine at the hotel. Whatever is going on, it just escalated. If I’m at the hotel and get tired, I’ll just go back to my room.”

“I won’t argue with you. I want you close.”

She nodded, then winced. Ross leaned over, kissed her just above her eyebrow. “Try not to move.”

“I know, but it’s hard.”

“When John left, he said something about witnesses. What was that?”

“There were people in the diner. He’s trying to find someone who saw the shooter or the driver.”

“Would you recognize them?”

“No. All I saw was an arm. But it definitely wasn’t an accident. They were aiming for me.”

* * *

By 6:00, Kate had woken up from a four-hour nap. She lay staring at the ceiling, trying not to focus too hard on any one thing.

All that concentration made her skull ache.

Outside her door, Ross had stationed a security guard. He and Don had gone on a full bender insisting she needed the protection and her head hurt too damned much too argue.

As much as she hated to admit it, the events of the day terrified her. Even as a federal agent, she’d never been shot at and the images of that truck roaring toward her, the gun poking out the window, the loud bang, all of it looped in her mind.

Someone had tried to kill her.

She’d come out of it on the positive side. If a minor concussion and a set of bruised ribs—as opposed to a fatal gunshot wound—were her only injuries she’d consider it a win.

The pain meds helped, but not enough to convince Don and Ross she could return to work today. That argument landed with a giant thud. When the two of them teamed up, they could be formidable.

So she’d compromised, telling them she’d rest up for the remainder of the day and then hit it hard again in the morning.

Whether they liked it or not. Whoever had targeted her, would not, under any circumstances, break her.

And they certainly wouldn’t get another opportunity to take a shot at her.

A soft knock brought her from her study of the ceiling. This would be a good trial run at getting up. She rolled to the side, the soft bed cushioning each movement. Great bed. Best bed ever. Even if she couldn’t move all that fast, it wasn’t an awful pace. A soak in the tub would probably help her battered ribs.

She glanced down at her yoga pants and tank top and thought back to when Ross had walked her to her room. He’d waited for her to change, had even turned his back before helping her into bed so she could sleep. The last thing she remembered was him kissing her on the forehead and leaving her pills and a glass of water on the nightstand.

The knock came again. “Coming.”

“Ms. Daniels? It’s Trent. You have a room service delivery.”

Trent. The security guard.

And room service.

Coming out of the fog of medication was no easy feat, but her growling stomach had definitely registered a lack of food for the day.

If she could hold anything down would be another matter. Her body craving nourishment was a positive sign.

She ran her fingers over her bedhead, checked the peep hole and spotted Trent on the other side with a waiter. She opened the door.

“Please tell me you have food on there.”

“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Cooper sent it.”

Bless him. Next time she saw him, she’d suck his face off. Totally.

The waiter pushed the cart into the room and the aroma of fresh cooked meat—
please let it be a steak
—drifted toward her.

The waiter left and with Trent once again outside the door, Kate lifted the lid off the room service tray to find a giant bone-in ribeye that could feed ten.

God, the man. After his last attempt with the caviar, he’d nailed this one.

She picked up her phone and dialed him.

Two rings in, he picked up. “Well, hello.”

“Hello to you. I just got your delivery. The minute you step into my room I will suck your face off.”

“You’ll…wow.”

“Oh, it’ll definitely be a wow. This steak looks amazing. It’s also giant.”

“Twenty-two ounces. It’s the only ribeye on the menu.”

“Will you join me?”

A brief hesitation ensued. He was busy. Of course he was. “It’s okay, Ross. I know your schedule is crazy.”

“No. It’s not that.”

“Liar.”

He laughed. “Okay. Yeah. I’m swamped, but I don’t care. Are you sure you’re up for a visit? Say yes and I’ll be there in five minutes. Three if I get the express elevator. Even I’m not crazy enough to take the stairs fifteen flights.”

“I am most definitely up for a visit. Just don’t be offended if I pass out on you.”

“I won’t. I need to catch up with some of our whales later anyway, so I’ll tuck you into bed early. How’s that?”

Perfect. That’s how it was.

Kate set the cover back on the steak and went to the bathroom to do something with the insane bedhead. The man liked red hair, she just wasn’t sure if he’d be ready for the explosion she currently sported.

As promised, three minutes later he knocked. She gave her hair one last cruise with the brush, pinched her cheeks in the hope of adding at least some color to her ashen skin.

Eh.
Not so much.

She’d live with it.

Ross knocked again, forcing her to abandon her attempts at vanity. All a girl could do was try.

She opened the suite door to Ross chatting with Trent.

He turned to her, his eyes narrowing for a split-second. “Your color is coming back.”

“Liar.”

“No. Really. If you think this is bad you should have seen it earlier.”

At that, she snorted.

“Poetry,” he said. “I know.”

She waved him in and he turned back to Trent. “I’m gonna be here for an hour or so. Take a dinner break and check in with Don. See if we can get someone else up here to relieve you.”

“Will do, Mr. Cooper.”

Kate shut the door behind him, gestured to the service cart. “That might be the best looking steak I’ve ever seen. For a girl who grew up on a ranch, that’s major.”

“I got it right this time?”

“Oh,” she said, “you definitely got it right.”

After their meal, one unfortunately her rebelling stomach wouldn’t let her finish, Kate wandered back to the sofa and rested her head back. “Thank you for dinner. Your chef is amazing.”

“For what we pay him, he’d better be. And thank you for sharing. I didn’t expect—”

“I wanted to.”

Really, what she’d wanted was to see him, to have him in her space after a terrifying day.

He eased next to her on the sofa, wrapped one arm around her shoulder and gently pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head.

“How’s your head?”

“Not too bad. The painkillers help. My ribs aren’t awful either, but I’ll be sore tomorrow.”

He ran his free hand over her midsection, being careful not to press too hard. “Damn, Kate. I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault. Someone’s upset with me.”

“Which happened right after you got here.”

“Don’t try to talk me into going home. I have a job to do and I’m doing it. Especially now.”

“Even if it gets you hurt. Or worse?”

“Yes. Ross, this is what the FBI trained me for. I can handle it. Whatever it is.
Whoever
it is.” She reached up, rested her hand against his cheek. “I can do this.”

She kissed him. Slowly at first and then she shifted closer, arching into him, her body curving into his and that little burst was back, the one inside her from that first time he kissed her.

He wrapped his arm around her, pulled her in even tighter before breaking the kiss, his eyes hot on hers. “You did promise you’d suck my face off.”

“I always keep my promises.”

* * *

Whatever was happening here—and Ross was pretty sure he knew what it was—he liked it.

And definitely wanted more.

Except, hell, she’d been through a shit day and her body was banged up.

If he were a decent guy he’d scoop her up, put her in that bed and leave.

Tomorrow, when her brain wasn’t fogged from drugs and she’d had a solid twenty-four hours of rest, they’d revisit this sexual torture that was slowly killing him and he’d make her battered body hum.

He brought his hands up to her cheeks and brushed his thumb along the sides. “I want this.”

“Me too.”

“Good.”

She made a move toward his mouth again. The woman knew what she wanted, and if she didn’t cut that out they’d have big problems. He was a good guy, but he was still a man—a horny one—who found it hard to resist sex. And when it came to Kate, his resistance level was already limited.

But her green eyes? Total killer. “We should wait,” he said. “Right? Until tomorrow at least. See how you feel. Maybe let the drugs wear off.”

She stared up at him, those killer eyes a little hazy. “You’re worried about the drugs.”

“Yeah. I mean, you’ve been through a tough day. Let’s just make sure you’re—” he waved one hand, “—you know…”

“Sober?”

“No.”
Ah, shit.
“Well, yeah.”

She smiled, sat back a second, her bottom lip poking out. Thinking. More than likely deciding how stoned she was.

What a cluster.

After a few seconds she stood and faced him. “The painkillers are doing their job, but I know what I’m doing.”

And then she did it. She gripped the bottom of her tank top and inch by slow inch raised it, her fingers sliding against the smooth skin of her torso and Ross sat there, mesmerized by the creamy white flesh he wanted so badly to get his hands on.

“Kate—”

“Shut up, Ross.”

“Shut up?”

“Yes. I get it. You’re being a gentleman.”

The tank top slid over her chest, revealing a sheer lacy pink bra that did nothing to hide the budding nipples underneath. Damn that was hot. No padding. Just lace against skin and Ross’s erection became painful.

He tore his gaze from her breasts, met her stare. “Please,” he said, “tell me you’re sure.”

In one quick move, she popped the clasp at her chest and the bra came loose, her amazing breasts right there for him.

He met her eyes again, grinning like an idiot. “I guess that means you’re sure.”

“I guess that means you should help me get my pants off.”

Chapter Eleven

He’d get her pants off.

Yes, he would. Because he’d been a nice guy long enough and the heat storming this room should have burned the damned building down.

But… “You’re sure?”

“Oh, my God,” she said. “How much more of a Go sign can I give you?”

“I’m—”

Before he could finish his sentence, she stepped closer, straddled him and started working the buttons on his shirt.

He liked that. The simplicity of it. The intimacy of her undressing him. For whatever reason, it occurred to him that he always did that job himself. Always. Women seemed to know not to invade his space.

Except Kate.

With Kate, she could invade all she wanted.

She got to the middle button, worked it free, than looked back at him. “This isn’t something I take lightly and believe me, the drugs are not making this decision for me. And, really, I’m half naked.”

She slid his shirt out of his pants, undid the last buttons and ran her hands under his T-shirt and that initial touch, the skin-to-skin contact made his pulse jump.

He cupped her cheeks, brought her closer and kissed her. “You just got out of the hospital. You have to tell me if something hurts you and we’ll stop.”

“Shut up, Ross.”

He laughed. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Game on. “Good. Then let’s get those pants off.”

He scooped her up and she let out a squeak of surprise as he carried her to the bed, gently set her down.

“I could get used to this,” she said.

“I’m hoping you can get used to a lot of things. Me being one of them.”