Deep Breath (21 page)

He played his thumbs through her damp folds and over her pussy’s downy soft lips, rolling her clit with his tongue. Her mouth was doing little more than blowing her heated, panting breaths against him. He budged his hips upward to remind her he was there.

She flexed her abs; the motion drew her hips forward and down, bringing her slit even closer. He pierced her with his tongue, in and out, thumbing her clit with one hand, the bud of her ass with the other.

She let go of his cock, planted her hands on the mattress on either side of his knees and tossed back her head. He grinned to himself—not an easy task with his mouth full.

He loved giving her pleasure, loved her response. She was wet, swollen. The tips of her breasts were hard; he could see them when he looked between her legs.

When she begged, “Harry. Oh Harry, please,” he crooked his middle finger and slipped it inside of her, stroking the plump pillow of her G-spot while pressing his tongue to the side of her clit.

She cried out, shuddered, squeezed and flexed as she came, dropping her forehead to his belly, her hair falling between his legs. He pulled his hands and mouth from her sex, kissed her thighs, nipped at the curves of her ass.

She trembled, chuckled, shook. And before she could go down on him and finish him off, he reached for his pants, his wallet, and a condom. As talented as her lips and tongue were, he wanted to be inside her, and tossed the packet to the mattress between his legs.

Straddling his chest, she sat up and sheathed him, then crawled down his body to the end of the bed and took him into her hand. She positioned him, lowered herself slowly, still facing away.

He propped up on his elbows so he could watch her ride. With her hands braced on his ankles, she did just that, lifting her hips, lowering them, raising up on her knees, leaning forward.

She swiveled. She danced. He watched it all. The swing of her hair down her back.

But most of all, he watched the wet slide of his cock as it disappeared between the sweet folds of her sex. In and out. Up and down. Her pussy spread wide, her moisture coating him, slicking the way.

He dropped back to the bed, grunted as he surged upward, once, twice, feeling her tight grip contracting in a shuddering rhythm, milking him dry.

He burst. He turned inside out. He thought he was going to die. He closed his eyes and gave up the ghost, the sensation fiery hot and ripping him to shreds.

It was like nothing he’d known, the way she used him, the demands she made, the way she gave and didn’t stop until he was spent. He slowed his pumping thrusts, and she eased herself from his body, turning around, crawling up, settling against his side, her back to the wall.

He rolled away only long enough to dispose of the condom, then pulled the comforter up over the both of them. Doing those two things took the rest of his strength.

And that was it. Lights out.

5:30
A.M.

Georgia dressed quietly in the near dark of the trailer. Harry did the same standing in front of her and facing away. They’d slept less than two hours. Barely worth calling a nap. They hadn’t spoken a word since getting out of bed.

But now the silence was getting to her. She hadn’t asked him when he’d finally joined her earlier what he and Simon had discussed. Their business wasn’t hers. And, quite frankly, she was too overwhelmed with the truth about Harry to even know what to ask.

This, however, was her business. This morning, today, was about her brother. After that, it was about her father, the dossier, and the rest of her life. She wasn’t going to be kept in the dark any longer, and once she finished lacing up her boots she stood.

“Harry?”

He turned at her softly spoken question. The whites of his eyes were the only thing bright in his face. His expression was grim, as if he knew they were going into a situation with little guarantee of success. As if he was expecting the worst to happen no matter his plans.

She didn’t even want to know what he thought the worst might be. Her worst was already eating her alive. “I’m sorry. I just—”

He shook his head, gave her a hint of a smile. “You just have nothing to apologize for.”

His smile killed her. She’d distracted him. She should have left him alone, let him be the warrior he was, going in to do battle. “You lost your game face pretty quickly. Have I screwed you up for the day?”

His smile narrowed. “This is what I do, remember? The face is all for show.”

Or so he wanted her to believe. “Can I thank you now? Before anything happens? In case it doesn’t go the way you want? I don’t want you to think that I would ever blame you if anything goes wrong. If Finn gets hurt. Or if I do.”

“Georgia, listen—”

She shook her head, cutting him off. “I deserve the blame. I’m the one responsible. Six innocent people are in danger because of me and my stupid quest and my lies.”

He came closer, slid his arm around her shoulders, brought her to his chest. “What you’ve been doing, working to clear your father’s name…It’s not stupid if it’s important to you. And trust me. There are at the most four innocents here. Simon and I make a living putting people in danger.”

She rubbed her cheek against him, wrapped her arms around his waist. His warmth was so comforting, his muscles so solid. His heart beating beneath her face an affirmation of life. The thought that his life might end today left her cold, shaking, scared.

She loved him, and closed her eyes at the realization. “I can’t think of this as just another day at the office. I know that’s what it is for you—”

“Trust me. It’s not.” He held her tighter, closer, cupped the back of her head with his other hand, lovingly stroked her hair. “This one is too close to home, and that fact is giving me hell.”

Home?
She wanted to know, was afraid to ask, couldn’t put what she was feeling into words. Later. Once Finn was safe, once the day was finished, once Harry wasn’t looking down both barrels of Charlie Castro’s guns, then she would tie him down and make him explain what he meant.

If he thought of her as home, as she was coming to think of him. She hugged him one last time, then stepped from his embrace, giving him the space and the freedom to do what he needed to do. “Are we ready for this?”

Emotion flashed through his eyes and he swallowed, regained his cool just as quickly. “You tell me. You know the hike we have to make.”

She was talking about more than the return trek to the wrecking yard for the pickup. More than the drive to the airport to switch out the bucket for Morganna. Even more than the trip back and the confrontation to follow.

She was talking about where she and Harry were going to go from here. “Just tell me what you want me to do. I’m with you all the way.”

7:30
A.M.

Charlie Castro was ready for sleep. He didn’t consider it a priority. He caught up when he could. Catnapped the rest of the time. Always too much going on, too much to do.

He was close to seventy hours of doing nothing. He was stiff, not on his mark. He was no longer looking forward to the return of Georgia McLain and Harry van Zandt.

That was a sure sign that the dynamic of the day had shifted. His men were tired, too. They’d taken turns resting, one spelling the other.

He was more concerned that he wasn’t in control. He’d missed something. He didn’t know when. He didn’t know what. So little had happened.

All he knew was the tension during the last twenty-four hours had waned. It should have heightened. The end was in sight. The sun was coming up.

Georgia would be arriving soon. He knew she would come for her brother. He did not know if she had met with success. He had no plan for what he would do if she hadn’t.

That was where he had failed. He had quit playing the game. His interest had turned to the players. Specifically, to the only one worth his time.

This was the first time he’d worked with Georgia McLain. He knew of her reputation. Anyone dealing in antiquities did. She was loved for her cunning success.

She was hated for the same. She could have been hated for other things. No one seemed to know who she was. The man who had hired him knew. Now he did, too.

Charlie would make the connection between those two soon. His move would follow. One move if she delivered the dossier. One move if she failed. When the time was right, he would know.

At the sound of wheels churning gravel, he turned his head. Outside, Harry van Zandt pulled his big blue car to a stop at the door. He got out first. Georgia followed.

Charlie signaled for his man closest to the entrance to be ready. His other man ordered the three hostages to sit behind the counter on the floor.

The door opened. Georgia walked in. Harry followed. Neither carried anything in their hands. Leave the dossier in the car. Charlie would have done the same thing.

Harry was the one who walked to the table and sat. “Do we get points for being early?”

The man was too cocky. Charlie didn’t like his attitude. He nodded for his man to hold Georgia, and propped his elbow on the back of the booth. “This isn’t a competition.”

Harry waited. He stared, his eyes dark. “But it is a game, isn’t it? And the man with the big prize wins in the end?”

“Where is the prize?” Charlie cast his gaze toward Georgia. “Neither of you have it.”

Harry lifted his chin. “Tell your man to let her go.”

Charlie’s gaze flicked to Georgia and back. He shook his head. “I see no need.”

Harry held his gaze. “Georgia?”

“I’m coming.”

Her guard stopped her with the barrel of his gun. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Harry paused, nodded, called out, “Finn? You okay?”

“Short on sleep, long on Wheaties, but yeah.”

Charlie’s pulse picked up. “No one’s hurt. No need for a roll call.”

“Phil?” Harry called out anyway.

The cook answered. “Here.”

Harry’s gaze sharpened. The corners of his mouth lifted. “Can I get you to help me with something?”

Charlie heard Phil scramble behind him. He heard his own man order the other, “Sit down, Grandpa.”

“Thanks, Phil. That was all I needed,” Harry said, his smile widening.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Charlie lifted a hand to silence both of his men. “Our friend here is playing a game. One that has failed to hold my interest.”

“Your interest isn’t what I was after, Charlie ol’ boy.” Harry hooked both elbows back over his seat. “I only wanted voices. Yours, thug one’s, and thug two’s.”

Charlie sat forward slowly. He didn’t like this.

Harry turned his gaze up to the ceiling. “Simon? You get all that?”

The answer caught Charlie off guard. The red point from a laser beam glowed between the eyes of his man who held Georgia. He stared for a moment, then turned in his seat.

Another danced on the forehead of his man who held Finn. Charlie assumed there was a third on his. “Is this parlor trick part of your game?”

“Take a look out the window, Charlie.” Harry jerked his chin that way. “See the dishes on top of the rig across the street?”

Charlie hooked a finger in one blind and pulled down.

Harry laced his hands behind his neck. “Yeah. Those.”

The blind popped into place. Charlie sat back. He’d known the truck was bad news. He’d been too caught up in Georgia to act. “Impressive. But all I see is a trick.”

Harry’s grin was wide and all teeth. “I can give you a demonstration if you’d like.”

At this point, he had nothing to lose. “Be my guest.”

“Finn?”

“Yo.”

“That cake plate on the counter. Can you give it a whack?”

“Not a problem,” McLain answered, tapping his knuckles on the glass top. The crystal ring sang like a bell.

“One more, Simon.”

Charlie watched a fourth red light sparkle against the glass. He shrugged. He had yet to see an upper hand.

“Is everyone ready?” Harry glanced around the room. “Simon? One, two, three.”

The cake plate exploded. Cake bits scattered. Finn howled. Phil applauded. Tracy screamed.

Charlie closed his eyes and sighed.

7:55
A.M.

Tracy couldn’t breathe. She was going to pass out any minute. First she spends three days as a hostage, and now she ends up in the middle of laser beams and exploding cake.

“What do you want?” she heard Charlie ask.

“A couple of things,” Harry answered. “Finn, you and Phil frisk these three and gather their weapons. Georgia, you and Tracy find rope or whatever you can so we can put Charlie and crew in a bind.”

Rope. Did they have rope? Tracy hurried out of the alley, seeing Phil grab the guard’s shotgun from his hands as she passed. She heard Georgia behind her, and called back in a whisper, “What is going on?”

“A rescue like you’ve never seen.” Georgia stopped in the middle of the kitchen and looked around. “Do you have string or twine or anything?”

“No, but we’ve got duct tape.” Tracy headed for the supply cabinet in the add-on room behind the kitchen. “So that guy you went off with? Harry? Is he a cop or something?”

“He’s an agent, yeah,” Georgia answered, and grabbed two rolls from the shelf.

Tracy grabbed another, then closed the cabinet door. “And the guy in the truck is his partner?”

“Something like that.”

“He had the driver watching over us the whole time, didn’t he?” When Georgia nodded, Tracy laughed and followed her back through the kitchen. She could not believe how light her heart felt. “Charlie must be about to croak, finding out he sent you off with a cop.”

“The look on his face when that plate exploded? God, I wish I’d had a camera.” Georgia started to push through the kitchen door back into the dining room.

Tracy stopped her. “I want to tell you something. I know this is an emergency, but before things get any crazier, I want you to know what a wonderful brother you have.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me—”

“No. I do. He held my hand when I was scared and he made me laugh.” She swallowed, tears welling. “He made me miss my husband, and realize how much I want him to come back.”

Georgia’s own eyes were damp and happy as she came close for a hug. Tracy wrapped her arms around Finn’s sister as if she were her own, then they both wiped their eyes, laughed at how silly they were being, and pushed through the door and into the dining room.

Tracy handed one roll of tape to Finn and one to Phil. Georgia handed hers to Harry. The three bad guys were sitting on the floor, each one with his arms and legs wrapped around the posts of the stools. The tape made sure none of them would be going anywhere for a very long time.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Phil,” Harry said, standing up after taping Charlie’s mouth. Tracy listened, watching Finn and Phil finish with the others.

“I’m going to send Georgia and Finn on their way, and I’m heading out. You can make up any story you want about disarming this bunch. Just mention heroin smuggling and the wrecking yard down the road. You’ll be a local hero.”

Phil didn’t question anything Harry said. He shoved the three handguns into his waistband, and hooked both shotguns over his shoulder as he headed for the phone. Tracy looked from Phil to Harry to Finn.

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked, and Harry started to answer. But at the sound of wheels screaming into the parking lot outside, he stopped, reached over, peered out through the blinds.

Tracy caught a quick glimpse of red flames licking over shiny black fenders. It was enough. “That’s Freddy.”

Gravel spewed. A door slammed. Boots clomped across the ground. “Trac-eeeee!”

“Oh, Freddy, Freddy.” She didn’t wait to hear if she was supposed to stay put because a million bucks wouldn’t have kept her inside. She yanked open the door and ran out.

Freddy opened his arms and caught her. “Tracy May Dunn, where the ever-lovin’ hell have you been? I’ve been to the house, to the hospital. No one has seen you for days, baby. What’s going on?”

She wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck and sobbed. “You’ll never believe me. I’ve been right here all this time held hostage.”

“Hostage? Baby, what are you talkin’—” Freddy stopped, looked up over Tracy’s shoulder.

She’d heard the door open and figured Finn and the others were on their way out. She didn’t want to let Freddy go, so she kept hold of his hand. “C’mon. I’ve got to go back inside. Phil’s waiting for the cops.”

“Wait a minute. Cops. Tracy, girl, you’re not making any sense.”

“I’ll tell you everything, I promise.” But then it hit her. She didn’t even know if he was staying. “I mean, if you want to know. If you’ll be sticking around.”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. When I started getting calls asking where you were, and then when I couldn’t find you anywhere…” His big blue eyes grew wet and wide, and he pulled down the brim of his Peterbilt cap.

She reached up a hand to his cheek, her heart bursting. “I love you, Freddy. I love you so much.”

“I swear, Tracy.” He stopped for a minute because he almost choked. “The house and the taxes don’t matter to me. You’re the only thing that’s important. The only thing that means a damn in my life.”

She smiled up at him and told him with her kiss that he was the only thing that meant a damn in hers.