In Deep Shitake (A Humorous Romantic Suspense) (43 page)

“I’m not going to stop,” she said with a laugh. “Just try not to kick a hole in our hiding place when I do
this
.” The metal rasp of his zipper whispered in the silence.

* * * * *

As he waited the excruciatingly long time it took for Mo to open his pants and reach inside, the blood thundered through Ross’s veins all rushing toward his stiff cock. Breathing was almost impossible, but who needed to breathe? He just needed Mo. Needed her with a ravenous hunger.

The feel of her warm mouth—licking and sucking made Ross’s rear end arch in carnal anguish. “I want to be inside you,” he choked out. All this pleasure, this ecstasy had to be shared.

With some fumbling and tugging, they got Ross’s pants down and Mo’s panties off. Then she crawled over him and straddled his waist. The center of her was moist and ready as she brushed against his belly.

“Mo,” he panted. “You’re so beautiful.”

She laughed through panting breaths. “Now I know you’re full of shitake. You can’t even see me in here,” she said.

“I don’t have to see you to know,” he said. Everything about her inside and out was beautiful.

He felt her position herself before sliding down onto his shaft. Ross lifted his hips, driving himself deeper into her sleek wetness, to the core of her. Mo groaned and gasped.

Lifting and dropping, she rode him with tormenting slowness. Gripping her hips, he lunged upward not being able to keep from increasing the pace of their rhythmic movements. Finally, he felt her arch and tense. The convulsions of her inner muscles milked at his shaft, sending him over the edge into his own release.

Mo collapsed atop him, panting. Ross wrapped his arms around her, caressing over Mo’s hair and down her back as they both calmed. For long minutes they lay against one another without speaking.

“It’s a damn good thing none of the thugs came back,” he drawled. “They definitely would have heard us.”

“And saw us,” Mo said. He felt her smile against his chest. “If the parade floats a
rockin
', don’t come a
knockin
'.”

A hearty laugh burst from Ross and he squeezed Mo, cherishing her. God! This woman made him happy. After a few seconds his tone turned serious, and he said, “Thank you for forgiving me.”

“What makes you think I did?”

“Cheeky,” he teased with a chuckle and then lightly pinched her behind.

“
Ow
,” she cried.

“What we did just now,” he said. “Making love…that certainly felt like forgiveness to me.”

“To me too,” she whispered.

* * * * *

 “Do you think the wall’s intact?” Mo asked, still draped over Ross.

“I’m not sure.” Ross felt around in the darkness. Then the light of her keychain came on. He pointed the pinprick beam this way and that. “There’s no damage. At least not to the wall.” He turned the light off and put the keychain in his pocket. “I’m a different matter. I may never be the same.” He stroked a hand through her hair and down her back. “You know I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“You’re just fishing for compliments and I refuse to indulge you,” Mo said. “You’ve had enough birthday presents for this year.”

“That’s true. Even with all this nonsense with the Russian mob, this has really been the best birthday I can remember—because of you.”

“Speaking of the Russian mob,” Mo said, trying to divert him from the subject of their relationship—or whatever it was they had— back to the less dangerous subject of the people trying to kill them. “It sounds like Clarence and your fiancée, Heather, got us into this mess.”

“She’s not my fiancée, but yes they got us into this.”

“I guess I can’t hold it against Clarence, him being dead and all. It seems petty somehow to be angry with him.” Mo swallowed hard. “Oh, Ross. I’ll never forget how he looked with his head smashed up that way. And the big gun laying by his side covered with blood.”

“You found his body?”

He felt her nod.

“Oh, baby. I’m sorry.” He stroked her back and then hugged her to him. “What’s that about the big gun?”

“A replica of the
SpyMatrix
gun was the murder weapon.”

“
Fab
. No wonder the police suspect me,” he muttered.

“Hopefully, I put them onto the trail of
Kubikov
and
Gigantor
where they belong.”

They lay together and Ross felt their breath fall into the same rhythm.

“Can I ask you something important?” Ross questioned her.

Mo hesitated. “I guess so.”

“Why are you using the food references?”

“This is not important. Besides, I already told you I just don’t want to swear any more. That’s all.”

Sensing the significance, Ross pressed on. “Yes, but why such a strong commitment to avoiding the curse words.”

Mo yawned. “I haven’t wanted to admit it to myself, but I think it has something to do with guilt feelings. Like I’ve sold out or something.” Mo's lips nuzzled his neck before planting a kiss there. “I went to culinary school but took a job at the agency when I couldn't afford to finish."

"You've got nothing to feel guilty for."

“I suppose I also felt like a failure at school. And I don't think I'm cut out for being a PI. I'm a failure there too."

"You're a fantastic PI," Ross soothed.

 "Well...swearing just doesn’t feel right anymore. The food words are automatic so I guess I'll stick with them." She lifted her head from Ross’s chest. "Is that weird?"

Ross stroked her hair and nudged her head down to rest against him again. “Of course not my dear vegetable mouth.”

“Shitake’s are a fungus, not a vegetable as you’ve reminded me before.”

“Okay, fungus mouth.”

“We’ll get out of this tomorrow,” Mo said in a confident tone.

“Definitely.” Ross loved her feistiness, wrapped in vulnerability.

Mo yawned. “I’m so tired.”

“I know. Go to sleep, sweet.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and felt her drift into unconsciousness. “Nothing will harm you as long as I can help it,” he whispered.

* * * * *

The next morning Mo awoke to the realization that she was extremely uncomfortable. What had happened to her bed? The mattress was much firmer than she remembered. And where was her pillow? Noises of movement and conversation seemed to surround her. Had she left on the television? In fact, her bed was either moving or she’d imbibed way too much alcohol last night.

Disoriented, Mo opened her eyes and saw Ross crouched a few inches away. Oh yeah, Clarence dead, Russian mobsters, hiding in float...
Blah, blah, blah.
It all came flooding back.

Ross appeared to be staring out of one of the holes in the paper wall of their hiding place. Mo sat up, silently crawled to him, and found a hole of her own to peek through.

 The trailer holding the float had been hitched to a pick-up truck, hauled through the overhead doors of the warehouse, and was now bumping along the two-track dirt road awash in the sunshine and crisp air of the outdoors. Two figures loomed in the bed of the truck—
Gigantor
and the bouncer from the club. Two more men were seated in the cab.

Before long, the truck made a wide turn and the trailer swung onto the highway. Mo had to grab onto a two by four to keep from falling through the paper wall. She gripped the wood and sat down, spreading her legs out to ground herself. She felt more stable, but she’d lost her view of the passing scenery.

Mo glanced over and saw that Ross had taken a similar position.

“I assume they're towing us to the St. Patrick’s Day parade,” Ross said. “When this thing stops we can make our escape.”

“Maybe we should wait until we get to the parade. There’ll be more people around then.” Mo shouted to be heard over the noise of the truck and the wind whipping around the strip club replica. “I bet those guys in the truck are armed.”

Ross nodded.

The trailer abruptly took an uphill trajectory and the wind tunnel sound effect increased. They must be passing over the
Talmadge
Bridge that spanned the river. Mo chanced a peek through the wall and saw the huge spans of the suspension mechanisms with the sky as a backdrop.

Just as quickly the trailer nosed downward and Mo slid against the wood post, her hand crashing through the green paper wall.

“Bell pepper,” Mo shouted, jerking her hand back. She retrieved some of the paper that was still stuck to the structure by heavy glue and pulled it back into place. But a few sheets flew away like miniature kites on the wind.

Grimacing, her eyes met Ross’s and he mouthed something that looked like, “It’s okay.

 Mo didn’t try any more peeks outside.

The trailer turned right and Mo imagined them exiting the bridge. A few more turns and she was lost in the mental imaging of the route. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes before the trailer pulled to a halt.

Mo and Ross crawled to the wall at the front of the trailer. Peering out, Mo saw they had stopped in the staging area of the parade route.
Gigantor
marched to the end of the truck bed and hopped onto the float. He turned, bent forward, and adjusted something. The movement hiked up the black jacket he wore over a blue dress shirt and jeans, exposing the butt of a gun jammed into his waistband.

The trailer dipped and several other men, including
Kubikov
, climbed aboard. The Russian mob boss pulled one of his goons to a halt near the wall. If
Kubikov
glanced in their direction, there would likely be eye contact. Mo and Ross each jumped back.

“There was a camera in her office just like she said. But the
digi
-card wasn’t there. Maybe she doesn’t have the card.”

“Stupid,
byeazoomyets
. Of course she has the card. She couldn’t print copies of documents to show me without card.”
Kubikov
pushed the goon off the float.

“Find the woman! Find Dagger!”

“Yes, sir.”

The guy limped away.

Britney, the stripper from the other night, hopped up.
“Hey there, honey buns,” she cooed and planted a kiss on
Kubikov’s
face while grabbing his butt cheek.

“Hi, baby,” he replied, smooching on her neck. “Be careful. We don’t want Betsy to see us.”

“Why don’t you just tell her about me?”

“I will, I will.”

Mo saw several other women from the club climb aboard the float, all garbed in bikini tops and miniskirts over bikini bottoms. One strode over the model city, looking like a huge
stripzilla
, to grasp a pole next to the trailer hitch.

Mo crawled to Ross and whispered. “Should we chance it?”

Before Ross could reply, the trailer began to move. The song
Stripper Love
blared from speakers mounted on the four corners of the trailer. Britney and two other blondes, giggling, tromped up the stairs apparently taking up a position in the
Hoochie
Mama’s House interior. Two strippers with green hair took places at the front corners. Mo assumed that the other two she’d seen were at the back.