Doing It Right (14 page)

She couldn’t hear sounds of pursuit, which was comforting, but if she couldn’t kill Carlotti, it was past time to be gone. If she were alone, she wouldn’t worry a jot about silently slipping out of the warehouse
unseen. But Jared was at her side and “stealthy” wasn’t exactly the best word to describe him.

The “clang” as he tripped over a pail brought this point home, and she swallowed a sigh. Looking sheepish, Jared regained his balance and picked up the pail, apparently meaning to carry it with him.

“When we get out of here,” she said at last, “you should go to the D.A. Tell him everything you’ve seen and ask for police protection.”

“Screw that,” was the rude reply. “If I leave you alone for a minute, I’ll never see you again. You weren’t going to come back, were you? You were going to ice the bad guy and disappear on me.” His voice was the muted thunder of anger. His eyes told a different story.

“Jared … Jared, I’ll only get you killed.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I couldn’t bear that. Anything but that.”

His gaze still reproached her. “Oh. Okay. But you putting yourself in danger on my behalf,
I
can choke
that
down, no problem.”

“Shhhhh.”

“Shhhh yourself,” he grumbled.

She held up a hand to forestall further arguing and poked her head around the corner. She never peeked. Slow movement gave the bad guys something to train their gun sights on. A quick glance, flash, and gone. “Hallway’s clear, let’s—”

His hand closed around her bicep, circling it easily, and he pulled her back. She was surprised
again at the strength in that hand, then reminded herself that Jared Dean was many things, but he wasn’t a wimp. “Listen up, blondie,” he said, not unkindly. “I’m not going anywhere. I mean right this second and in general. I know you don’t believe me and that’s okay—for now. I don’t expect you to take me on faith. I know I have to prove myself. I—”

“We don’t have time for this,” she said with deliberate cruelty, because they didn’t, and because she wanted him out of that warehouse and safe and didn’t want to hear him explain why it was all right not to trust him. Because if he kept up this … this nobility stuff, she’d probably have to break down in tears and beg his forgiveness and never, never, never leave his side. And of course that—all of that—was impossible.

“
Make
time, dammit. I know where you came from. Well, where I come from, it’s the worst kind of cowardice to leave a woman—particularly a woman you love—in order to save yourself. It’s not gonna happen. I’m never going to the D.A., I’m never going to stay out of the way when you kick ass on the bad guys, and I’m not hiding in the goddamned bedroom while you kill the guy who wants to kill me. Get. Used. To. It.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. He wasn’t angry—well, he was a little, but that wasn’t hot rage talking. He really was a chauvinist, and she should have been annoyed at his ludicrous attempt to repress her, but the reality was, she thought it was kind of nice. If incredibly misguided.

Jared, she knew, never said anything he didn’t mean. He was stuck to her like a lamprey, whether she liked it or not. And frankly, the only reason she didn’t like it was because of the danger it represented to him. So the question was …

“I know that look,” he said warningly, “and you can just forget it.”

… should she knock him out and more or less drag him to the police station? It might be the only way to protect him from his chivalrous instincts.

He was backing up. “Touch me and I’ll scream.”

She sighed. “Never mind.” Once he woke up, he would never remain in police protection. The big idiot would probably take to the streets, looking for her. He’d never find her unless she wanted to be found, but he’d get himself mugged and knifed and any other manner of assault on his person while he blundered about, looking for her.

Kara, checking the next hallway, suddenly realized what she had been thinking.
Not that Jared would leave me
, she thought with dawning excitement,
but that he would look for me! Is that a true perception of his character—of his love? Or am I still foggy from lust? It’s entirely possible, the man is ridiculously good in bed …

Further pondering was interrupted by the
click-click
of high heels on tile. Behind her, Jared halted obediently, hefting the pail in readiness. She shook her head at him. She knew that walk. And it answered the question …

“Hey!”

… what had happened to Krystal during the fight?

“What’re you guys doing here?” Krystal, who had rounded the corner, was now staring at the two of them. Her face was bloodless, scared, and she had obviously been crying, but Kara couldn’t summon any pity for the woman.

“Running from your boyfriend,” Kara said sweetly. Jared glanced at her and raised an eyebrow at the tone he had never heard from her before. “I guess things didn’t work out exactly as you planned.”

“I didn’t—I—he
made
me!”

“Does he
make
you wear those tacky shoes, too?”

“Catfight!” Jared said cheerfully.

“I wondered what happened to you,” Kara continued. “You ran, didn’t you? Ran as soon as it looked like things weren’t going Carlotti’s way. Not only did you align yourself with unregenerate scum, you can’t even be loyal. Now … what? You’re lost? Trying to find him? Or us?”

Krystal grinned suddenly, looking not unlike a great white shark. Crocodile tears shone like cubic zirconium on her cheeks while she inflated her lungs for a yell that would, no doubt, bring the bad guys crashing down on them.

Jared moved before Kara could; he grabbed Krystal around the shoulders with one hand and clapped the other over her mouth.

“I wouldn’t,” Kara warned.

“Ouch, dammit! God, she’s got a bite like a hyena. Now what?” he complained, just before his
breath whooshed out as Krystal simultaneously buried an elbow in his stomach and brought her spike heel down on his instep.

“Well, hit her back,” Kara said impatiently, checking the hall to make sure their scuffling hadn’t been overheard. She was annoyed at Jared’s interference; this was taking too long and making too much noise. “Shut her up somehow. We can’t drag her with us and we can’t leave her here.”

“I can’t!”

“What, can’t? You’re a doctor, you probably know all sorts of dirty tricks.”

“But …” Jared trailed off as he tried to hold the wildly flailing Krystal, whose wrathful mumblings through his palm were getting louder, like the hum of hornets in a disturbed nest. “But she’s a girl!”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Kara said, honestly irritated, but she had to fight a smile. He really was adorable. And Krystal, she was sure, was never a girl. The woman had been born a wolverine. “Then let her go.”

Jared dodged a wildly flailing elbow and tightened his grip enough to make Krystal gasp. “Ah … sorry. Okay, ma’am, I’m going to let you go, but you have to promise to be quiet. Do you promise?”

Krystal quit struggling and nodded, her eyes slits of rage; Jared let go of her. Krystal’s hand shot toward her purse, but before she could finish working the clasp, Kara pivoted on her right leg, swung around, and clipped Krystal on the chin with her left foot. Hard.

Krystal dropped like a bag of dirt. Her purse hit the floor, the clasp popped open, and a butterfly knife slid out, all steel and lethal edges.

Jared looked at the unconscious woman, then at the knife, then at Kara. He shrugged, and she could swear he was embarrassed. “Sorry. I just couldn’t do it.”

“I know. ‘But … but … she’s a girl!’” Kara shook her head and tried not to laugh. “Leave her here. She can’t screw us over if she’s down for the count.”

“Look at this,” he complained, holding out his hand. Krystal had broken the skin with her bite. “It’ll have to be disinfected.”

“And you might consider a rabies booster. Hell, you might want to just cut the whole thing off, play it safe.”

“Har, har,” he said sourly. “You realize, when we’re married, I’m not going to be too cool on continuing your idea of a social life.”

She said nothing. Married? Impossible.

“Niiiiiice
spin kick, by the way,” he continued, un-aware—or pretending to be—of her sudden discomfort. “It happened so fast, I didn’t even see it coming until it was done.”

“Thanks. That’s the idea.”

“It’s so nice to have a man around,” he sighed, and slung an arm across her shoulders. They continued down the hall.

They surprised two more of Carlotti’s goons on the way out. When Kara heard their footsteps
around the corner, she was overjoyed. One way or another, she knew, this would soon be over.

The fight—well, Kara’s part of the fight—was finished almost before it had a chance to get started. Even though the men were looking for them, they still seemed surprised to actually find Kara and Jared, and she was on them before they’d had a chance to so much as twitch their gun hands. She grabbed the one nearest her, wondering—CLANG!—what the hell that noise was, but too focused—CLANG!—on the task at hand to give it her full attention. She wrenched the man’s gun away so hard she heard his wrist snap—CLANG!—then buried her foot in his balls and, when he bent forward in agony, brought her knee up into his nose, breaking it and putting him out.

CLANG!

She popped the clip and ejected the shell out of the chamber, then slipped the rounds out and tossed the now empty clip over her shoulder. She turned, and what she saw so astounded her, she could only stare, the gun falling from her nerveless fingers.

Jared, her gentle healer lover, was attacking the other goon with grim ferocity. With the pail. The man had both arms up to protect his face; his gun had fallen to the floor. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the movies and it was taking several blows to knock the man out, and the poor guy kept yelping and trying to fend off Jared.

She was about to lend an apparently much needed hand when Jared stepped forward and
swung the pail in a powerful uppercut that caught the man on the chin and threw him back against the wall. He bounced off and hit the floor, flopping over like a fish and then not moving.

Jared dropped the pail—CLANG!—and rushed to the man who had been sent to kill him. His skilled fingers found a pulse, then checked the man’s pupils and felt the back of his head. “I don’t think I fractured anything,” he said, unable to keep the relief out of his voice. “But he’ll have one hell of a headache when he wakes up.” Then, as if fearing he sounded too much like a citizen, he added coolly, “Teach these guys to mess with us. Where’s the other one? You want me to take care of him, too?”

“No, Jared,” Kara said gravely. “I managed on my own. Nice work.”

She should have told him but couldn’t. Absolutely did
not
have the heart to tell him that he’d just bashed an undercover cop into sludgy semi-consciousness.

As a child, Kara hadn’t just studied the bad guys to survive. Her other opponents—less deadly, but better organized—were the police and Kara had learned to spot a rookie before he or she spotted her. There were so many giveaways, Kara wondered why the cops themselves didn’t catch on.

The haircut, for one—trimmed exactly three quarters of an inch around the collar and perfectly straight. Even when they suffered their hair to grow long and forewent bathing in order to look like street people, cops had trouble pulling it
off. How many street people had perfect teeth? How many of the female homeless had waxed legs and shaved armpits?

Their nice, even, three-foot police academy strides were another tip-off. She’d heard the man coming down the hall and had known at once that Carlotti’s gang had been infiltrated. And had rejoiced.

That was before Jared had assaulted the man, of course. Now he wasn’t just Carlotti’s intended victim, he was accomplice to the Avenging Angel and had just committed assault and battery against an undercover cop.

Kara realized it was time for a new plan. There was only one problem. Jared was absolutely going to hate it.

The real irony
, she thought, still listening for the sounds of approach,
is that I’m going to be busted for assaulting a police officer, when I never touched one in my life
.

She almost laughed.

S
uddenly, weirdly, Kara was in no great rush to leave the warehouse. Jared couldn’t figure it out. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t mind if he checked the guy she’d taken down—not that he gave a good damn if she
did
object—and aside from a broken nose, the guy would be okay. But she wasn’t moving with the same silent urgency she had been before. She was almost … strolling. It was like they were an ordinary couple, exploring an abandoned warehouse for fun. Since there was no longer an apparent rush, he was half tempted to ask her if she’d duck into an empty room for another quickie.

Oh boy. He tried to wrench his mind away from the mental image, but in an instant he was back in the closet, feeling her squirm beneath his hands, listening to her soft whimpers as she strained against him, reached for him, held him to her with all her strength. It had been astonishing, outstanding,
hideously dangerous, incredibly dumb in retrospect—and worth every sweaty second. He’d brave the danger of discovery another hundred times, if only to feel Kara come alive beneath his hands. Her control was a constant irritant and, worse, made him feel like an utter shit, like she didn’t trust him enough to be honest about her feelings.

He reminded himself that teaching Kara to trust would take more than a week, and a week was about as long as they’d known each other.
So rein it in, big boy
, he growled at himself,
it’s going to take time to get past twenty years of negative reinforcement. Jeez! That’s some ego you’ve got on you, pal.

He realized suddenly that they hadn’t used protection either time. Both times had definitely been in the heat of the moment, but that was no excuse for his carelessness. He knew he was disease free—oh, hell, of course Kara was, too. She was scrupulously careful about everything she ever did; she definitely wasn’t going to get caught—literally—with her pants down.