Rev It Up (16 page)

“Let’s make it look good for our audience,” she whispered, hooking an ankle behind his knee as she pulled him down for a kiss.

He caught the blinking red eye of the security camera mounted in the corner a second before her lips landed on his and then…
rien—
absolutely nothing.

His mind came to a full stop, because her breath was sweet, her lips were sweeter, and her tongue was the sweetest of all.

And suddenly he wasn’t playing a part anymore. He grabbed her ass with both hands and spun, pinning her against the elevator wall as he made like Alexander the Great and conquered.

As in, take no prisoners. Full-on tongue action. A real grab and suck.

And just when he was about to remove a hand from her ass in order to palm one of those firm breasts pushed up like an offering in that teensy halter top, the doors opened with a slightly discordant
ding-dong
, like maybe the elevator was suffering from a cold, and sanity suddenly returned.

Holy
shit!

He stepped back, his heart racing like a runaway freight train. When he looked down, her sultry eyes, made more so by all that black eyeliner, blinked up at him with equal measures of shock and awe.

“Sorry,” he whispered, swallowing and trying to still his racing pulse. “Got a bit carried away there,
mon
petite
.”

“It’s, uh…” she raised a shaky hand to wipe a thumb across his lips. No doubt a good amount of her lipstick had made the transfer. “It’s fine. All part of the act.”

Uh-huh. Sure.

Well, if she wanted to paddle down that sad little river otherwise known as
denial
, who was he to dissuade her?

Together, they swayed down the hall with its stained red carpet and chipped gray paint before stopping outside room 402. Inserting the key, he pushed open the flimsy metal door and was immediately hit by the overwhelming aroma of Pine-sol, pot, and piss.

Oh, goody. The three Ps. What fleabag, pay-by-the-hour rat-trap would be complete without them?

“It’s not so bad,” Vanessa murmured, pushing past him into the room.

“And you’re a terrible liar,” he told her as he took a moment to rearrange the erection he’d sprung in the elevator. Following her across the dingy carpet, he refused to look at the bed. The really big, really
obvious
bed taking center stage.

He pushed back the curtains on the dirty window and glanced out at the bar across the street. The neon sign for In The Mood Lounge blinked bright blue, and he couldn’t help but think the only people who frequented the bar were either “in the mood” to contract a lethal case of ptomaine from the food served there, or “in the mood” to come down with a chronic case of herpes from the ladies working the joint.

Johnny
sure
knows
how
to
pick
’
em.

He’d seen some shady places in his life, and In The Mood Lounge rated right up there with the best of them. Especially when you combined it with the rare treasure across the street that was The Stardust Hotel.

“How does it look?” Vanessa asked, pulling on the hem of her mini-skirt. Rock felt that grab and tug as if it’d happened to his dick.

Merde. Get it together, Babineaux.

“It’s perfect for surveillance,” he told her, refusing to turn in her direction lest she notice the tire iron he was concealing inside his suit pants—Correction:
Christian’s
suit pants. Oh, and wouldn’t Christian absolutely love that? “Not only can we see the entrances to the hotel and lounge, but also anyone enterin’ or exitin’ the alley behind the bar. Now all we need is our surveillance gear and—”

A hard knock sounded on the door.

“Ask and ye shall receive,” Vanessa drawled as she strolled across the room, now remarkably steady on those towering heels.

When she opened the door, Rock barely refrained from bursting into laughter because Becky stood in the hallway, dressed in a 24-hour delivery service uniform with a short brown wig covering her blond hair. A patchy beard concealed her pretty face, and a pair of Coke-bottle glasses made her soft brown eyes look huge and dull and lazy. She also wore a pair of fake yellow teeth and a monster, hairy mole on her upper lip.

No doubt about it, Rock wasn’t the only one who was good with a disguise.

Moley, moley, moley
.

“Delivery for Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” she said in a deep voice, holding up two giant bags from The Pleasure Chest. A pair of pink, furry handcuffs dangled from one bag while the top of a giant green dildo protruded from the other.

“Well, come in, sugar,” Vanessa rasped in her fake smoker’s voice for the benefit of anyone out in the hall. Only after she’d closed the door behind them, did Becky drop the act and break out in a huge smile that made the hairs in her mole flicker like a cat’s whiskers.

“Oh my God, this is so much fun. Aren’t you guys having fun?” she asked gleefully.

Rock could think of a lot of other things he’d rather be doing.

“Now, look,” she said, obviously considering her question rhetorical, “I brought a couple pairs of clean undies and a change of clothes for each of you.” She set the bags on the sagging mattress and starting digging inside, tossing the handcuffs and the Jolly Green Giant’s dick aside like they were nothing. “There’s toothpaste, two toothbrushes, some soap, shampoo and, Ta-da!” She waved the collapsible disk on a parabolic listening device. “The surveillance equipment you requested, Rock.”

Vanessa held up the green dildo and tilted her head, her eyebrows pulled together in a deep V. The thing was as big around and as long as her forearm, and the sight of her with a dick in her hand, even if it was green and ridiculously oversized, had him fighting to contain the erection that had begun to soften upon Becky and her mole’s appearance. “Who in the world can actually use something like this?” she asked absently.

“A professional,” Becky replied, still unpacking the bags. “Or at least that’s what I figured when I was picking it out.”

“Did Boss let you make this trip on your own?” Rock couldn’t imagine. The big guy was like a mama bear with a cub when it came to Becky. And who could blame him really? Especially given the woman’s astounding ability to find trouble in the most innocuous of situations.

“Are you kidding me?” Becky made a face that looked wholly absurd given her get-up. “He’s hiding in the stairwell with enough weapons to start World War III. But, whatever,” she waved a dismissive hand through the air. “I wanna know if there was any sign of Johnny on the way in?”

“He’d be a fool to stay here,” Vanessa murmured, looking around for somewhere to store the mammoth rubber cock and coming up empty. She satisfied herself with tucking it under the bed.

Rock wasn’t going to complain.

“It’s actually not such a bad idea,” he muttered, and both women swung around to face him. “If he wanted to keep an eye on the meeting place, there’s no better vantage point than this hotel.”

“So are you going to go looking for him? Asking around?” Becky asked.

“
Oui
. We’ll take turns watching the bar and nosing around the neighborhood. Vanessa,” he pointed at the woman as one corner of his mouth twitched, “will go downstairs and have a little tête à tête with Candy—she’s one of the lovely ladies you passed on the way in—and casually mention a client who fits Johnny’s description. See if it rings any of Candy’s bells.” He turned to Vanessa. “That is if you two can manage a civil conversation?”

Vanessa groaned. “I make no promises.”

Becky crossed her arms and pouted. With the mole and the beard and the teeth, the gesture looked ridiculous. “Man,” she grumped, “you guys get to have all the fun.”

He waved an incredulous hand around to indicate their less-than-stellar accommodations. “Ya think this is fun?”

“Well, it’s better than being stuck at the shop and—” she cut herself off as she narrowed her eyes and took a step toward him. A grin split her bewhiskered face, once more causing the hairs growing out of her fake mole to twang like mini antennae. “Yeah,” she said, nodding and looking back and forth between him and Vanessa. She reached up to wipe at his lips. Obviously, Vanessa hadn’t completely rid him of the evidence of their little elevator encounter.
Zut!
“I think you guys are going to have lots and
lots
of fun.”

He and Vanessa simultaneously opened their mouths to explain, but she waved them off and started for the door. “If you two need anything else, give ol’ Duncan here,” she tapped the name embroidered over the right breast pocket of her uniform, “a call. Until then,” she opened the door and immediately dropped her voice so it resembled a man’s, “thanks for the tip.”

After she’d gone, Vanessa plopped down on the bed and the mattress springs squeaked as if in agony. “Maybe we should talk about—”

“Help me get this equipment set up,” he interrupted her, because, really, what was there to say?

They were professionals on a stake-out.

People were depending on them keeping their eyes and ears open. They couldn’t let the chemistry bubbling between them distract them from the mission.

And since he couldn’t
do
anything about the boner in his pants, he sure as hell didn’t want to
talk
about it.

Michelle stared down at her sleeping son, snuggly warm in his little bed with his stuffed Elmo doll tucked up under his dimpled chin, and cursed her brother for putting her in this god-awful position.

It was his fault she was here now, scared for her life and that of her son…scared of how she’d continue to evade Jake’s advances.

Crap.

She knew what she needed to do. She needed to go downstairs, walk into her bright, welcoming kitchen, and play the part of the good hostess. Give her guest the lowdown on the accommodations. All those little things, like where to find fresh towels and soap…

But her kitchen didn’t seem very bright and welcoming right now, because it currently housed the one man on the entire planet she’d sworn to avoid like last week’s fish tacos. The one man who could—no,
would
break her heart again if she gave him the chance. The one man capable of crushing her hard-won resolve with only a kiss.

Oh, that kiss…

It made her remember too much and not enough all at the same time. It was terrible. And wonderful. And so, so dangerous…

With dread weighing down her heart, she softly closed the door to her son’s room and made her way downstairs, through the living room, and into the kitchen.

And then she momentarily forgot about everything, because there he was.

The man who inspired all her hottest fantasies. The same one who embodied all her worst fears…

“I checked the perimeter,” he said, not bothering to turn toward her as he worked at something on the far counter. “Everything looks good. That security system Boss installed for you is top notch. You don’t have anything to worry about. You’re completely safe here.”

Yeah, right. Physically she might be safe, but emotionally? Now that was another matter entirely.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he finally turned away from the counter only to find her frowning at his back. His very broad, very strong, very drool-worthy back.
Dangit, Michelle! You have too much sense for this!
“I helped myself to some tea.” He held up two mugs, steaming and filling the air with rich aroma.

“You’ll have to finish both,” she told him, refusing the mouthwatering temptation of a warm nightcap combined with a sexy man. Because, you know, there was an empty sofa in the next room…

“Oh, come on, Shell,” he winked and lifted one of the mugs. “It’s your favorite. Chamomile.”

She wished the fact that he remembered that didn’t affect her so.

“I can’t,” she said. “I’m about two minutes away from needing a pair of toothpicks to prop open my eyelids.”

Not really. She’d be hard-pressed to get any sleep tonight given everything that’d happened. Oh yeah, and then there was the fact that Jake was going to be sleeping three doors down from her. A measly twenty feet away. Sprawled all over her guest bed. Naked…

At least that’s how she imagined it would be.

God, help me!

“Extra towels are in the hall closet along with extra soap. I put clean sheets on the guest bed.”
The
one
you’ll be sprawled in. Naked.
Frickin’ frackin’ fudge!
“Feel free to scrounge anything from the fridge or pantry you want. Although, I see you’ve already done that, so just,” she made a rolling motion with her hand, “carry on.”