Avenging Angel (18 page)

He dominated her with his strength, holding himself above her with his hands clenched into the sheets next to her shoulders. His repeated invasion crossed the border from pleasure to pain and back again.

“Dylan . . . stop,” she gasped. She needed time, she needed a breath. She needed control over what was happening.

What he gave her was a kiss—a kiss to steal her heart and soul. The sweet laving of his tongue through her mouth was sensory overload and her final undoing. The different tastes of him mingled into one and spread like a magic elixir through her pores. When he moved his mouth to her breasts, she cried his name.

“Oh, Dylan. Yes. Yes . . .”

He wrapped his fist in her hair, forcing her head up to meet his gaze. “Look at me, Johanna,” he ground out, his body straining for completion, sweat slickening his skin. “Look at me and take me.”

Take him she did, for she had no choice, neither physically nor emotionally. She wanted him from the depths of her being, a place she’d never known she could share until Dylan Jones had forced his way inside.

His climax came with a mighty groan that echoed in her heart. She clung to him as the shudders of release racked her body, completely his in the final act of dissolution.

“Don’t you dare,” she whispered long minutes later when he slowly traced the line of her hip with his hand. Her voice was a bare murmur coming from where she lay curled up next to him.

“I couldn’t,” he assured her, rolling onto his side and lowering his head next to hers. He lay there quietly, breathing in her fragrance and smoothing his palm across her skin. She was so silky and soft. The feel of her was something he would never forget.

“We have to get ready to leave soon,” he said after a while. “We still have a lot of ground to cover before we get to Seattle.”

“I don’t want to move.” She eased herself even closer to him. “I may never want to move again.”

“I need to call Charlie to set up a meeting place. Let him know when we might get there. I’d like to make the drop as clean and as fast as possible.”

She stirred, turning her head just enough to meet his eyes. “By ‘the drop’ I assume you mean me.”

He grinned, and she rolled her eyes at him before lowering her head back down and resuming her serious relaxation.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she said a moment later.

“About sex?” he asked, then added ruefully, “I don’t think you changing your mind is going to make much difference. Not for a while anyway.”

“No. About Charlie Holter,” she said. “I’m not going with him.”

His hand stilled on her hip. “Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not,” she said clearly, coming up on her elbows. A fall of hair slid over her shoulder. She looked down at him. “You aren’t responsible for me, Dylan, and neither do you have any authority over me.”

“Yes, I am, and yes, I do, counselor,” he said equally as clearly, his expression one that would brook no argument.

“I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

Her gaze slipped away from his, and she ran her hand over the suddenly tensed muscles in his arm. “What were you and Johnny Shepherd, two Chicago boys, doing in Lincoln, Nebraska?”

Dylan couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe two people could make love the way they’d been doing all morning, and one of those people’s minds could still be working like a steel trap—and it wasn’t his mind he was talking about. His mind still felt like mush, pleasantly so. Damn, she was persistent.

He waged a silent war with himself and her question. The truth was more bizarre than she could have imagined. He hadn’t planned on telling her. In truth, he’d half killed himself to make sure she would never know what he and Johnny the Shark had been doing in Lincoln—but telling her might be the edge he needed to get her to do what needed to be done.

His gaze flicked up to her face. She had to go with Charlie. There could be no compromise.

“We were working on a hit,” he said.

“A hit?” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You mean like a contract to kill somebody?”

“Yes.”

“My God!” She unconsciously drew herself tighter together, her clasped hands coming up under her chin, her shoulders hunching forward. “You were supposed to kill somebody in Nebraska? I can’t believe it.”

“No, Johanna,” he said. “We weren’t supposed to kill anybody in Nebraska.” He reached up and slid his hand under her hair, lifting it off her neck and letting it slip back through his fingers. “Johnny and I were sent to kill somebody in Boulder.”

He could tell by watching her when the full impact of his words hit home. Shock drained the life from her face, leaving her curiously flat looking. Then, with a strangled sound, she pulled away from him, grabbing for a blanket as she made her escape. He caught her before she was even half off the bed and brought her back into his arms.

“Johanna.” She struggled against him, but he held her tight, making his voice soothing. “Johanna, listen to me.”

“No.”

“Johanna.” His tone became more demanding, his grip more firm.

“Why?” she cried. “Why would Austin do such a thing? That bastard.” Her voice softened into tears. “That bastard.”

Dylan cradled her next to his chest, understanding all too well both her anger and her fear. He let her cry, knowing the betrayal she was experiencing defied description. Austin had wanted her life. He had wanted her existence annihilated in exchange for an added degree of safety. Dylan knew what it felt like to mean so little, to be expendable. The woman in his arms should never have had to confront such knowledge.

When her tears slowed, she lifted her face to his. Moisture pooled in her eyes, making them appear fluid and rain-streaked.

“What if he’d sent someone else?” she asked. “What if he hadn’t sent you? I’d be dead now, wouldn’t I?”

“You’ve been safe from the day I walked into Austin’s office and saw you sitting there. I knew then that whatever came down, if you weren’t already involved, I’d do my damnedest to keep you out of it.”

“Why?” Her brow furrowed in confusion, her eyebrows drawing together.

Dylan didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t understood his reaction himself. He’d seen her sitting there, looking confident, in control, totally beautiful, and totally out of place. Watching her work that first day, listening to every word she spoke to Austin, he’d known she was flying blind, that however good she was in her capacity as one of Austin’s lawyers, she wasn’t aware of all of his other dealings.

The way she had kept looking at him, politely interested, possibly intrigued, definitely wary, had been a sure clue to him that she hadn’t understood why Austin had taken to hiring bodyguards.

“I thought you were innocent,” he said.

“And when you started looking through the papers on Morrow Warner?”

A small smile twitched his mouth. “I thought you were good, maybe too good. You were giving Austin everything he wanted and somehow managing to stay clean. I was impressed . . . and worried.”

“Worried?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I wanted an airtight case and you were weaving loopholes.”

“Do you have an airtight case?”

His smile faded and his face grew grim. “All I’ve got is two dead agents who worked with me and a whole lot of evidence nobody seems to want anymore.”

“And Johnny Shepherd.” She closed her eyes and lowered her head. “My God. What happened that he ended up dead?”

“I’m not sure.” He reached up and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Her voice trembled, but he took her at her word. She was stronger than most.

He gave her shoulder one last squeeze, then got up and started putting on his clothes. “Johnny was wired before we even hit the Chicago city limits, and it just got worse. Ten hours in a car with a hyped up copilot flying on cocaine is not my idea of fun. I got a little rude with him, a little crude, making sure he knew who was in charge. He got rude back, told me I better watch out who I was trying to impress, told me he thought he could get a two-for-one deal by taking all of Austin’s trash out in one trip.”

Dylan buttoned his shirt, then tucked the tails into his jeans before zipping them up. “By the time we got to Lincoln, push was coming to shove, and I knew my cover had been blown. Johnny never would have confronted me unless he thought Austin was behind him, backing him up. The thing that didn’t make sense was, if Austin had really wanted me out of the picture, he wouldn’t have left it up to Johnny. I got cut a couple of times, but Austin knew I was the best he had. He had to have known Johnny would end up dead, not me.”

“Maybe he thought a murder rap would look good on you.”

“Maybe,” he agreed. “Or maybe Johnny was supposed to put a bullet in the back of my head instead of trying to take me on with a knife. Johnny liked his knife a lot. He’d used it a few times on a couple of his hookers.”

The sudden change in her expression brought him up short.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

She shook her head, silently telling him it wasn’t his fault. “I should have known what was going on. I knew things were changing, but I didn’t realize how deep the changes went. The man who hired me four years ago wouldn’t have also hired a man like Johnny Shepherd.” She looked up at Dylan. “He wouldn’t have hired you.”

Dylan shrugged. “Four years ago Austin Bridgeman didn’t need a bodyguard. Some deals went bad. He needed cash, and all of a sudden the rules started changing. I’ve seen a lot of people get in over their heads that way. Most of them don’t come out on top. Austin wanted to make damn sure he did.”

When she didn’t say anything, he leaned down and brushed his mouth over the top of her head in a brief kiss.

“I’m going to go call Charlie. We’ll leave when I get back. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He slipped the handgun into the back of his pants and reached for his coat, but when he turned to leave, her voice stopped him.

“Dylan?”

“Yes?” He looked back over his shoulder at her, continuing to pull his coat on.

“Thank you for saving my life.”

For a moment he was tempted to tell her he loved her, that he’d had no choice but to do everything in his power, and some things that he hadn’t thought himself capable of, to save her life. Not everything had changed, though. He was still taking her to Charlie. He was still going back for Austin. And his chances still didn’t look very good.

“You’re welcome,” he said, and turned toward the door.

* * *

“Charlie. Dylan here.” He stood outside of the lodge, using the pay phone next to the soda-pop machine. He had more privacy there than inside, where late-starting fishermen and a few families were milling around, enjoying the breakfast buffet.

The air was comfortably cool, enough so that his coat wasn’t too out of place, though he would have been less conspicuous in a parka or a down vest.

“Dylan! Good to hear from you, boy! Where the hell you been? I’ve been calling you for three days, must have left half a dozen messages on your machine.”

“I’m on a road trip, heading in your direction.” It was good to hear Charlie’s voice, something familiar. Charlie was older, wiser, and had gotten Dylan out of more scrapes—political and otherwise—than he cared to remember.

“Great! We going fishing, or what?”

“Or what.”

There was a lengthy pause, and Charlie’s voice changed from lighthearted exuberance to almost sad in its seriousness.

“Are you in trouble?”

“I’ve got a woman with me, and she’s got a contract out on her. I need a place to put her for a few days.”

Charlie didn’t answer immediately. Dylan hadn’t expected him to. The older man had a well-earned reputation for looking before he leaped on all occasions and under all circumstances. It’s what had saved Dylan’s life twice.

“Can you bring her here?” Charlie finally asked. “Or do you want to meet somewhere?”

“Meet somewhere. In Seattle,” Dylan said. Charlie lived north of the city, on the sound. If someone had been able to track them, Dylan would rather they stayed on his trail in and out of Seattle, instead of him leading them to Charlie’s.

“Where are you?”

“North of Missoula, Montana. Nine or ten hours from you.”

“You’ll be here early evening. Let’s meet at that bar on First Avenue, the one up from Pike Street. Do you remember the place?” Charlie asked.

“Yes.”

“The one where we ate steamed clams and drank so much beer, they had to carry us out of there.”

“I remember.” Dylan almost smiled. They’d had some wild times together. “We’ll be there. I want this to be quick and clean, Charlie. I’ll send her in, tell her to go into the ladies’ room. I’ll stay in the background, you’ll see me, and when she comes out, she leaves with you.”

Charlie agreed, and Dylan hung up. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He had somebody else on his side now, somebody who could take care of her if he went down.

All he had to do was get to Seattle.

“I met Henry at Denver University,” Johanna was saying. “We even roomed together for a while.”