On Thin Ice (35 page)

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Authors: Susan Andersen

BOOK: On Thin Ice
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“Maybe. Maybe not. If nothing else, though, this shoulder is going to put me out of commission for a while. What's to stop the powers that be from using it as an excuse to dump me? I'd do it in their position.”
“Well, I won't let them. Have a little faith. We've survived Kells Crossing. The Follies is a piece of cake compared to that.” She hesitated, then squeezed his hand. “Lonnie, I'm sorry I doubted you tonight. You saved my life.”
He gave a bitter laugh. “I damn near cost you your life.”
“You're my oldest friend, you know. Nothing will ever change that.”
He perked up. “We can say anything to each other, right?”
“Yes. Anything.”
“Good. Then about Vinicor . . .”
Sasha rose to her feet. “I've got to go,” she said. “The doctor wants you to get your rest.”
He didn't relinquish his grasp on her hand, although his strength was depleted to the point where she could remove it without much effort if she really made the attempt. His voice, however, was firm. “Sasha,” he said with authority. “Sit down.”
T
WENTY–TWO
It was early morning by the time the DEA finished collecting evidence in Karen Corselli's hotel room and Mick was finally free to seek some rest in his own. Letting himself in, he closed the door behind him and then leaned back against it, running a weary hand through his hair.
He was exhausted but didn't know if he'd be able to sleep in that empty bed by himself. Which was sort of ironic, really, considering he hadn't actually slept in the same bed with Saush for a while now. But he'd at least had the sound of her breathing and her physical presence to soothe him to sleep each night. There had still been a chance then; he hadn't been leaden with the knowledge she was gone.
Pushing away from the door, he walked into the main body of the hotel room, pulling his sweater off over his head as he walked. A chair by the table across the room creaked, a minute, telltale sound that caused him to freeze, his arms still crossed over his head, half in and half out of the garment, the sweater stretching from his nose to his elbows in the air, blinding him. Wrestling it free, he threw it to the floor and was reaching for his gun in one swift, continuous movement before he recognized the person rising from the chair.
“Sasha?”
She started across the room to him, silent except for the whisper of her old-fashioned white lawn nightgown brushing her legs. Then the sound of running water in a distant room broke the spell that had held him in place, and Mick made a sound deep in his throat and took two giant strides forward. He intercepted her in the middle of the room.
Fingers digging into her sides, he lifted her into the air, leaving her feet to dangle above the carpet as he kissed her with a rough lack of control. His mouth was voracious, forcing hers wider, reaching deep with his tongue, restlessly changing the angle of his mouth from one second to the next in an attempt to get closer. Sasha wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Kicking her legs free of voluminous folds of nightgown, she wound them around his waist.
Mick snarled deep in his chest at the feel of their bodies so close yet not close enough, and took the two steps needed to bring them to the table. Sweeping it free of clutter with one arm, he lowered her roughly onto its surface, his body plastered to hers, hands tracing down the sides of her body to the hem of her nightgown where it bunched around her thighs. He raised his hips up just enough to push the material up to her waist and then reached between them to rip himself free of his fly. In the next second his hands were gripping the backs of her thighs, pulling them high and wide apart and he was plunging deep inside her.
Sasha cried aloud with pleasure and drove her hips up to meet each powerful thrust. His mouth came down to cover hers, swallowing cries that grew stronger with every plunge and withdrawal. Then suddenly she was screaming with the force of the orgasm that exploded inside her.
“Oh, God,
yes!”
Mick lifted up enough to watch her. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love—” His words broke off and his lips pressed into the side of her neck beneath the force of his own abrupt and violent climax. A low, animal sound forced its way up his throat with each shuddering pulsation that transferred his seed into her body. Then he collapsed atop her.
For several moments it was silent except for the sound of their harsh breathing. Then one of Sasha's feet slid from Mick's buttock and hit the tabletop with a small slap. He pushed up on his palms to look down at her.
The first thing that registered was the nasty swelling of her cheek. It was puffed out and fiercely bruised, bristling with three black sutures. Self-recrimination hit him like a two-ton truck. “Jesus.” He pulled out and pushed to his feet, staring down at her sprawled across the tabletop. Snatching the spread off the bed, he shook it out over her and then scooped her up off her uncomfortable perch, setting her swaddled in yards of hotel bedspread in the nearest chair. He stepped back and stared at her, hands fisted at his side. “I'm a real piece of work, aren't I? You were nearly killed tonight. You're black and blue, most likely in pain . . . and I'm all over you like a goddam animal.”
“Yeah, and I liked it.” His face was such a marvel of incredulity she had the urge to laugh. But it had faded by the time she'd fought her way partway free of the comforter. “Micky, don't leave me,” she whispered. She cleared her throat and then said more strongly, “Please. If the only reason you're going is because you gave me your word that you would, then you've gotta stay. I don't want that promise, Micky; I want you. I don't think I could stand it if you left—”
Mick snatched her out of the chair and held her in a grip that even through the comforter threatened to crack a few ribs. “I want us to get married,” he said in a low voice.
“Okay.”
“The only thing is”—sitting down in the chair, he arranged her in his lap—“you'd, uh, be marrying an unemployed man.”
“You're kidding!” She sat up indignantly. “They
fired
you?”
“No, that was what they were going to do when I refused to manufacture a case involving you. They
love
my ass now. Karen provided them with even bigger and better headlines than you would have. The truth is . . .” He studied her closely for her reaction. “I quit.”
“Oh. Well. That's okay, then.” She settled back against his chest. “Mick, do you think you could find me the little envelope of pills you swept to the floor with the rest of the stuff on the table? My cheek's starting to throb something fierce.”
Ten minutes later they were curled together beneath the blankets on the bed. “Why'd you quit?” she asked out of the blue and raised her uninjured cheek up off his chest to see his face. “Not that I object, mind you. It's just . . . I was under the impression your work was—I don't know—like your entire life.”
“It was; that's the problem.” He stroked her hair. “Once upon a time it was exciting and I felt like I was contributing something. Truth is, though, I've been growing disenchanted the past couple years, but it
was
my life and I didn't have anything to replace it with.” His shoulder moved in a shrug. “The War on Drugs is not being won, Sasha—it's being turned into a political platform, a tool for the grandizement of suits and politicians. I'm tired of hanging out with lowlifes . . . and believe me, darlin', this is a life form that's prevalent on both sides of the law in this business.” He tucked his chin in to peer down at her. “Are you worried how we'll get by without my salary?”
“Not really. I've got a little money set aside.”
“So do I, darlin', but I doubt we'll need to live on it. First thing tomorrow I'll talk to Dello about a little contract work. He could use my expertise cleaning up the rest of the Follies' drug problem. Karen may have been the most dramatic example, but the extremes she took it to notwithstanding, you know as well as I do that she's not the only one. There's plenty to keep me busy until the hiatus when the show closes. We can decide our next step then, but I don't want you to worry. My experience in this field can be transmuted in about a dozen different directions. I doubt I'll ever be short of work.”
“When are we getting married?”
He shifted her onto her back and rolled to his side, propping his head in his hand to smile down at her. “Ah, now, that depends. You got any preferences how you want it handled?”
“Something small and simple.”
“No huge church and guests by the hundreds?”
“I don't even know a hundred people. A little church, Ivan to give me away, Lon, Connie, a few friends and your family would be nice.”
“Which kinda brings us around to what I've been thinkin'.” He grinned and wagged his eyebrows at her. “How 'bout Billings, the Saturday following the last show? My mom can get everything ready.”
She stared up at him incredulously. “Mick, for pity's sake, you can't just dump this in your mother's lap and expect her to pull it all together in a few weeks. Weddings are a lot of work—even small weddings.”
“Yeah, and they're right up Mom's alley. Nothing that woman likes better than organizing the hell outta stuff.”
“But she doesn't even know me and you expect her to just drop everything to do the work I should be doing myself?”
“Ah, man, she's gonna love you.”
“Not after we dump this in her lap, she's not.”
“No, I'm tellin' ya, darlin'. You're bringing home her baby boy—getting him outta that dangerous drug work. I promise, you present her with a grandkid or two somewhere down the road and the farm's yours.” He licked his lower lip and watched her intently. “So whataya say?”
“Oh, I would really love that, Micky.” Seeing his smug smile, she hastened to add, “But only if she agrees. And you don't go browbeating her into this, you hear me?”
Mick laughed. “The man hasn't been born can browbeat my mom into doing something she don't wanna.” His hand slid out from under his ear and his head flopped down onto his biceps as he stared at her. “I can hardly wait to take you home.” He hesitated a moment and then said, “Darlin'?”
“Umm?”
“What made you come to me tonight?”
“Well, Lonnie said—” she started to explain.
“No,”
he protested, bolting up to a sitting position. He gripped his knees in both hands and stared down at her. “No, no, no, no,
no.
Tell me I don't owe this to him!”
“I'm afraid you do. I was gonna let you go, Mick, because I thought that's what you really wanted. It hurt so much I couldn't bear to talk about it, but Lon made me sit down and listen to him anyway. He said the only reason you were cutting me loose was because you'd given me your word you'd get out of my life once this mess with Karen was over. Said I'd be a fool to let you go.”
“Ah, shit.” Mick dropped his forehead onto his kneecaps and sat silently for a few moments. Finally, he raised his head. “I refuse to be beholden to that man.”
“He saved my life, Micky.”
“I know he did, honey, and for that I'll be eternally grateful. But that doesn't mean I have to like the guy. I know! I'll talk to McMahon, see to it his heroics are publicized. The news can even be slanted in such a way it'll throw doubt on his prior conviction.” He grinned, pleased with himself. “He'll be the hotshot sensation of the moment. That oughtta make us even.”
“You can do that if you like. But Lon's always going to be a part of my life, Mick—get used to it.”
“Damn.”
He sounded so disgusted that Sasha had to smile. “Admit it,” she said, giving him a little poke. “You don't dislike him nearly as much as you pretend.” He made a rude noise. “You don't. I think you actually harbor a little fondness for him.”
“Don't be ridiculous. I could maybe get used to him.” He slid down under the covers once again and gathered her into his arms. “But I don't wanna talk about him anymore. Have I mentioned how my much folks are gonna love you?”
“I'm”—a huge, jaw-splitting yawn was hurriedly hidden behind politely raised fingers—“gonna love them, too,” Sasha replied sleepily.
Mick laughed. “Okay, okay. We'll talk about it tomorrow. I'm a little wired, but I s'pose I could be talked into winding down—now that I know we've got a future.”
“Oh, we've got a future, all right,” she replied around another yawn. Snuggling up to him, she listened to his heartbeat beneath her ear. And she smiled. “Brightest damn future you've ever seen.”
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