Prescription: Makeover (15 page)

He led the way across the parking lot, bound for the corner where they’d scaled a chain-link fence from a nearby cross street rather than passing the security cameras at the main gate. Ike pulled herself over the fence without waiting for his assist, dropping down lightly on the other side, where an alley opened onto the street near where they’d parked their rented car.

William was halfway up the chain link when a crack of gunfire split the night.

“Hurry!” Ike shouted. She whipped out her .22, spun and returned fire.

William launched himself up and over the fence, landing hard. “Come on!”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her across the alley, where a door was set into the wall of a featureless gray building. He kicked the door hard, heard the lock mechanism give slightly and kicked again, then hit the slab as hard as he could with his shoulder. The door gave way, spitting them into a cavernous space. It took William a moment to register the smell of oil and the big, dark bulks of vehicles. A mechanic’s garage.

“There! The door!” Ike tugged him toward the far side of the building. “Hurry!”

The sound of footsteps approaching from behind spurred him on. He ran across the garage floor, popped the lock on the front door and hurled it open.

Then he dragged Ike back into the garage. If the bastard had set up one ambush, no doubt he’d set up a second.

“This way.” He pulled her around a corner and down a short hallway as their pursuers entered the garage, feet clattering on the cement floor. “Come on.” He urged her deeper into a mazelike series of cubicles hung with pictures of cars and women, the details barely visible in the low illumination of emergency lights.

There, William froze and listened. He heard a low-voiced conversation, and then two sets of footsteps heading out the front, through the door he’d left open. Ike stirred as though to move away, but he tightened his grip and shook his head quickly, mouthing,
Stop. Listen.

Sure enough, thirty seconds later they heard motion in the outer room, then the sound of a car door squeaking open and shut. At least one of their attackers had stayed behind, maybe more.

William glanced around, and his eyes lit on a series of tall lockers, most of which stood half-open and empty, a few hung with spare jackets and overalls.

Footsteps squeaked on the cement, drawing nearer.

William felt Ike tense beside him. Knowing there was no better answer, he bent down and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

She mouthed,
For what?

“This.” As the measured footsteps drew nearer still, he grabbed her, spun her so they were plastered front to front, and walked them into one of the lockers.

Then he shut the door, cutting out the light.

She went board-stiff against him. “You’re okay,” he whispered almost soundlessly. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

When she didn’t respond, he wrapped his arms around her, urging her away from the door, closer to his body, hoping his touch would ease her fear.

The action had the exact opposite effect on his own body, which heated as she fit tight against him, lining up hard to soft, heat to heat.

She made a wordless sound of protest, though he wasn’t sure if she was fighting him or the darkness that surrounded them.

“Hush,” he whispered in her ear, barely a breath of sound as the footsteps approached.

Through the slats in the metal cabinet door William could see a male figure in black-on-black livery. One of Odin’s bodyguards.

Under other circumstances, he would’ve taken the guy on, but with Ike in there with him, that wasn’t an option. He’d made the wrong choice once before and wasn’t taking that risk again.

Besides, he had a more immediate problem, he realized as she began to shake against him, trembling with growing panic. She clutched at his shirt, grabbing on as though he were her lifeline. He tightened his hold, trying to wrap himself around her, trying to give her the illusion of safety, though they were anything but safe.

He heard her breaths come quickly, felt her heartbeat pound against his flesh.

More car doors slammed, and male voices called to each other.

“You find them?” one called.

“Nope,” another answered. “Keep looking. I don’t think they went out the front.”

Ike’s trembling increased until William could feel the motion in his very core, transmitted through flesh and bone. A faint sound escaped from her and was quickly muffled, but it sounded as loud as a shout to his ears.

Sh,
he wanted to say but didn’t dare.
You’re okay. I’ve got you. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.

Since he couldn’t say the words, he did the next best thing, the thing he’d been thinking of all day or perhaps for far longer than that. He bent down and gathered her even closer so her flesh was pressed hard against his, their hearts beat in tandem and they breathed the same air.

And he kissed her.

It was the same as before, all sharp flavor and hot promise. Except it was different because this time he wasn’t kissing Eleanor. He was kissing Ike.

T
HERE WAS NO MOMENT
of hesitation, no gentle question. One minute she was stuck in her own head, trying not to break and scream as the darkness pressed in, suffocating her. In the next, William was kissing her as though they were lovers already, as though he knew exactly where to touch her and how and had the absolute right to do it.

His lips claimed hers forcefully, expertly, and the way they were plastered together in the tiny space left no doubt of his arousal. His tongue played across her lips, demanding access, and when she opened her mouth in shock, he swept inside to claim a deeper kiss, one that sent her senses spinning and put her outside herself.

The tiny cabinet disappeared. The armed thugs outside disappeared. In that instant there was only the man pressed against her, making love to her with his mouth.

He framed her face between his big hands and concentrated on her lips, as if instinctively knowing she didn’t like to be held too tight, that she liked to be free to move away if she wished. Only there was no thought of that as she pressed closer to him, catching a moan before it was born, holding onto the sensations that piled one atop the other.

He tasted of the same frustration that rode her, had ridden her for days now, maybe longer.

Sharp, edgy need flooded her, flooring her with the burn of desire and a gut-clenching lust that demanded release. And not just any release but completion with this man — the pounding, gut-churning, raw-edged sex his kiss promised.

“Hey,” a loud male voice said suddenly, sounding as though it came from mere feet away. “Did you two check the offices back here?”

There was a loud banging as first one cabinet was opened and then the next. Heat went to ice in an instant in Ike’s body as the door to their hiding spot was yanked open and a bright flashlight beam pierced the darkness. “Got ’em!” a voice yelled.

Then William exploded from the cabinet in a blur of muscle and motion, and the other man’s yell became a scream. Ike could barely follow William’s moves as he caught the black-clad bodyguard by the throat and chest, flipped the guy and had him on the ground between one heartbeat and the next.

She stood, shocked by the speed and the violence.

The guy twitched once, then went still, but William was already gone, flashing across the room to take on two other assailants who burst into the room at a dead run, weapons drawn.

Ike pulled her .22, but William didn’t need her weapon or even his own. Without slackening pace, he grabbed one man and slammed him into the other. Gunfire echoed in the open space, bullets ricocheting as the men fired wildly. Ike screamed and backpedaled to the cabinet, taking shelter behind one of the open locker doors.

William spun and grabbed one of the men by the throat. There was an audible click and the guy went limp. His weapon clattered free when he dropped to the floor, but William didn’t care. He grabbed the other guy, spun him and slammed him into the door frame headfirst. He went down hard, leaving William standing in the center of the room, breathing hard, seeming unhurt.

But not untouched, Ike decided when he turned and looked at her, his eyes dark and wild. Whatever he’d done just now, whatever place inside him channeled that level of fighting prowess, it wasn’t a place he wanted to be.

He’d gone there for her, she realized on a punch of emotion. He’d become someone he didn’t want to be in order to make sure she wouldn’t get hurt.

She took a step away from the cabinet and held out her hand. “William —”

Voices shouted from the other room, and something metal overturned with a clatter. William spun toward the sound and bared his teeth, flexing his fingers in preparation for another battle. But instead of racing out to meet the attack, he backpedaled two steps, planting himself square in the center of the office.

When a shadowy figure appeared in the doorway, he lowered his head and growled, “If you want her, you’ll have to go through me, you bastard.”

The words speared through Ike, frightening her with the intensity of her reaction, the intensity of her fear when the figure raised one hand and she realized he could shoot William where he stood and all the fighting arts in the world couldn’t outstrip a bullet.

Then the other man stepped into the light, and sharp relief flooded through her at the sight of Max, hands raised to show peaceful intent. “Chill, partner. It’s me, and I’ve got some of Springfield’s finest with me, rounding up the others. Don’t worry, I’ve got Cage leaning on the state police. We’ll be able to hold them for a few days on weapons charges if nothing else.” His eyes flicked to Ike. “You okay?”

She nodded, going shaky when she heard police-band transmissions out in the other room. “I’m fine.”

But she didn’t feel fine. She felt weak and wobbly and horribly turned on by the awful beauty of the violence she’d just witnessed. She didn’t know if the men were dead, didn’t want to know as she crossed the room, gave William a wide berth and stopped near Max, not because she was afraid of William but because she was afraid of her own response, wary of the knowledge that if he crooked a finger, she’d launch herself at him, not caring who might see.

She was acutely aware of him standing behind her, fighting to marshal his breathing and his rage. To give him time, she asked Max, “Did you and William here plan this?”

The question brought a faint burn of Ike’s usual self with its corollary:
And if so, why the hell didn’t you tell me about it?

But Max shook his head and flicked a glance at his partner. “No plan. I just know the two of you too well. I knew William was going to try to head out alone tonight and I knew the moment you turned down my dinner invite, that you had every intention of going with him.” He lifted one shoulder. “Since Raine is tucked in safe at the BoGen secure apartment for the time being, I figured I’d tag along in case something broke.”

“Thanks,” Ike said simply.

Max nodded. “That’s what friends are for.”

Behind her, she was conscious of movement and a deep sigh and sensed William pulling himself back together. He straightened and moved to stand beside her, touching her hand briefly as if in thanks or maybe to reassure himself that she was there and whole.

Whatever its purpose, the brief touch nearly sent her up in flames. Desire burned in her blood, and her pulse quickened, nearly drowning out Max’s voice when he said, “We got Firenzetti.”

That got her attention.
“What?”

“Firenzetti,” Max repeated. “We got him. He was out on the street in a limo. His driver tried to get them out by running over a cop.” His lips twitched. “Let’s just say the boys in blue were very thorough when they took Dominic and his driver into custody.”

“You’re sure of the ID?” Ike pressed, caught between surprise and relief.

“Positive. What’s more, it looks like you were right about him being both the boss and your stalker. The limo contained close to a hundred pictures of you, a receipt from a flower shop, schematics of the Markham Institute and a few odds and ends that suggest he intended to bomb the press conference tomorrow, probably on the theory that if he couldn’t get at the information inside Kupfer’s head, he’d prevent it from being released.”

“God.” Sick nausea crawled in Ike’s belly at the idea of a bombing and the knowledge that he’d photographed her, become obsessed with her. Why? It didn’t make any sense. She was a nobody. A misfit.

“I want to see him,” William grated.

Ike nodded. “Me, too.”

Max looked at them both for a long minute before nodding. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The three of them walked out into the larger garage area, which was now brightly lit and showed signs of the vicious skirmish between the cops and Firenzetti’s men. Max conferred with a tall redhead wearing street clothes. She glanced over at Ike and William, said something to Max and nodded.

He gestured for them to follow him out. “You can have five minutes, but he stays in the cruiser. Detective Blanchard isn’t sure whether to believe me about The Nine, but she’s not taking any chances until the feds get here.”

That stopped William in his tracks. “Who’d she call?”

“I couldn’t talk her out of it,” Max said, obliquely confirming Grosskill’s involvement. “The minute I said ‘organized crime,’ she was on the phone.” He lifted a shoulder. “Cage’s influence should buy us a few days to organize our arguments and take them higher up, at the very least.”

“Right.” William nodded but seemed unconvinced as they neared a cruiser parked curbside, just down the street from where they’d parked the rental a couple of hours earlier.

It seemed like days, Ike realized. So much had happened. So much had changed.

The cop in the front seat of the cruiser buzzed down the back window, saying, “You’ve been Mirandized, Mr. Firenzetti, so anything you say can and will be used.”

The man in the backseat was familiar from the pictures Ike had managed to pull up from the databases, yet he wasn’t familiar at all, she realized. His regular features, which had looked darkly handsome on film, seemed sharper and more calculating in the flesh, as did his dark, heavy-browed eyes, which went immediately to her.